


Shorts from the North- Modern AUs

by sansapotter



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-25
Updated: 2015-11-15
Packaged: 2018-03-08 21:26:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 66
Words: 34,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3224012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sansapotter/pseuds/sansapotter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I decided to split my drabbles into modernAU settings and canon settings, essentially all but the last chapter are things that were once posted in Shorts from the North. If there's something other than Jon x Sansa it's noted in the chapter drop down. Hopefully I'll be better at updating this :)</p>
    </blockquote>





	1. Neighbors AU 1

**Author's Note:**

> I decided to split my drabbles into modernAU settings and canon settings, essentially all but the last chapter are things that were once posted in Shorts from the North. If there's something other than Jon x Sansa it's noted in the chapter drop down. Hopefully I'll be better at updating this :)

Jon climbed out of Mance’s truck at the foot of the driveway. Like every time before he swore to himself that he would drive to the next party. His mom was relaxed about his curfew. Once they moved to her hometown she had gotten rid of it all together even though he’d been fifteen at the time; _if you find something worth staying out all night for then good for you._

He could hear a voice from the Stark’s porch the closer he got to his own front door. He looked up, without his glasses he couldn’t really see more than Sansa’s long red hair. He turned his attention back to the door, had it been Robb or Arya he might have jogged over to see what they were up to. In the three years he’d been living next-door he and Sansa had maybe had five conversations, not that he was counting.

"Joff, I saw you with your hand up her blouse," he hesitated when he reached for the hide-a-key. He hadn’t realized she was still dating that guy. Arya despised Joffrey, and Robb wasn’t much better. He should go over and just make sure she was ok. It was only right. When he glanced over again she had her eyebrows lifted, _on second thought._

She waved a hand at him and he froze. He definitely couldn’t change his mind now. She tipped her head, inviting him over. His arm dropped from where the key was hidden and walked across the yards. He could hear her boyfriend shouting obscenities, but she looked almost bored by it. “Good bye Joff.”

He rocked back on his heels waiting for her to say something. “Sorry, hold on.” She cracked open the door leading into the house and walked in. God he felt stupid standing on their porch, he didn’t even know why he’d really come over. _So full of shit,_ he ran a hand through his hair. It was pretty obvious why he took so long to pull the key from the ledge. _She probably knows it too,_ he told himself as he paced. He had made up his mind to just walk away when the door cracked open again.

Sansa was slipping through the front door, trying to avoid the creaky top step. “He was hiding,” she said shifting the tomcat in her arms. “Your sister’s cat got into the garden again,” she handed Balerion to him. The ill-tempered cat squirmed more in his arms than he did in hers.

"Oh, thanks. Sorry about that."

"S’ok. I just wanted to make sure he got to you." She scraped the toe of her flat on the porch. "Well, night."

"Yeah, night." He said turning to walk down the steps. He heard the door creak open a little wider and before he could stop himself he said, "Sansa," and she turned. "You deserve better." Her blue eyes lowered, and he watched a smile bloom on her face.

"Thanks Jon."


	2. Secret's Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon/Sansa, modern AU, brothers best friend + family opinions on their relationship

"When did this start?" Catelyn asked softly. Until recently she hadn’t known Sansa to be close to Jon Snow. He’d come around to keep an eye on the young ones, they’d been in a pinch. Their ususal sitter cancelled, Arya was at a friends, and earlier in the evening Sansa had been working. Robb had mentioned Jon as an option when he said he had a date.

Ned wasn’t nearly as shocked as she was when they arrived home to find their oldest daughter asleep on their son’s best friend. A position too intimate to be accidental, his hand cradling the back of her head as she slept on his chest. “You knew,” she accused. Ned never kept secrets, it was one of her favorite things about him.

"I had my suspicions, so did you." He shrugged. "She could do a lot worse Cat," her husband said seriously. Sansa had done worse, boys who were too old to really be called boys, boys who had her brother itching for a fight, boys who had made her cry. There was nothing Catelyn could say in those moments to sway her daughter’s opinion, Sansa liked to learn her own lessons; to her credit she never made the same mistake twice, at least to her mother’s knowledge.

Catelyn couldn’t give the moment she had noticed the change. One day they were strangers, the next their heads were bowed in quiet conversation. She didn’t know why they were trying to hide. Robb didn’t have a friend the Stark’s loved more than Jon. The Karstark boys were too wild, encouraging aggression; Theon kept him out all night, and brought him home hungover and reeking of booze. Jon was quiet and calm, he brought out the better qualities of Robb, really in all of her children.

Sighing she walked to the chest in the den, and pulled it open. All of the blankets were white or grey, but only one was wide enough to cover them. Sansa opened her bleary blue eyes that mirrored her own. She rubbed her thumb over her temple, and smiled sleepily before closing them again, fisting Jon’s shirt in her hand. Sansa could do much worse than Jon Snow.


	3. Surprise, First

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon and Sansa surprise!

Jon’s eyes met hers and it sent waves up her spine into her shoulders. She wanted to say something, anything, but her mouth wouldn’t quite work.

"Was that too much?" He asked bringing himself up onto his hands, collapsing against the pillow beside her. He took her silence as a negative. "It was too much, I should have waited," he rolled to his side reaching for his discarded t-shirt. She watched him wipe his mouth with it before tossing it aside again. "It’s ok that you didn’t," he shrugged trying to be casual, his eyes betrayed his tone, disappointment.

"Did you?" She asked, finally getting her voice to work. "Like it I mean?" His mouth quirked up, he had. "I’ve never had anyone do that before," She confessed pressing her chin onto his shoulder to look at him.

"What, never?" She’d had long-term boyfriends, he’d met a lot of them when he was hanging out with Robb. Hadn’t he realized the kind of guys they were?

"Yeah never. I didn’t realize boys liked doing that." And she hadn’t, until she saw Jon’s pupils blown wide when he stared up at her from the spread of her thighs. It made her flush all over again to think about. She pressed her face into his shoulder, trying to hide the blush of her cheeks.

"I don’t know about boys," Jon chuckled, coaxing her face to his. "I do."

"You do, don’t you?" When she kissed him he tasted different. _He tastes like me._ It didn’t repulse her, as she thought it might; instead it made her want him closer. She brought her hand into his hair and felt him hum in approval. His hands went to her bare hips and pulled her up to him fully, pressing her chest to his. Sansa wasn’t expecting that and let out an oof.

"Sorry," he murmured pulling his mouth from hers, his hands spread across her back, between her shoulder blades, and the smallest part. It was like he couldn’t get close enough to her. She wanted to feel him everywhere.

"Do you think," she bit her lip pulling away shyly. She couldn’t possibly ask him. How could she even say it? He would wait her out, she could tell from the way he had his mouth on her neck, her jaw, her earlobe, he could keep himself occupied until she could ask. “Do you think we can try that again?” She could feel his groan all the way in her toes, and she could feel him twitch against her hip. “I mean we could just-“

"No," he said quickly. "That is, I mean, if you want me to."

"I think I do." Jon didn’t require further suggestion after that.


	4. Model x Photographer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> JonxSansa, photographer and model AU (preferably Sansa as photographer). aka the first prompt my love wildfloweroses gave me on tumblr

The composition was just off. She’d done everything Petyr had taught her, drawing in the natural light from the massive windows in the drawing room; meaningful artifacts were placed in the frame; she’d set Jon Snow in the chair so the light would catch the planes of his face. She set her aperature to f4, her speed at 100. In theory she was doing everything right.

She should ask if they could break. Mr. Snow had been sitting for her for about an hour. His posture didn’t indicate any kind of discomfort, in fact if anyone were to walk in they might have guessed he had just taken a seat. It wasn’t his fault the pictures weren’t turning out right. “Do you care if we take a break?” he asked, craning his neck back. Sansa looked up from the little screen.

"Sure, sorry I know this is taking a while." She felt bad too. Petyr had been able to catch moments as they happened, like he knew they were coming; if they were posed they looked natural. Sansa knew she was lucky to have had such a good mentor, but she couldn’t be a photographer’s assistant forever.

Dragonstone was an old mansion, one that Mr. Snow had recently inherited. It had belonged to the Targaryen’s for years and years. Jon was a man of the north himself, and looked desperately uncomfortable in the island castle. Maybe that was why he wasn’t staying.

Margaery had heard about the restorations to the castle, and Jon’s intentions for the castle once it was up to code. She had done an interview over the phone and was working on a piece about it. Sansa was lucky that Marg asked her to take the photos. “Do you want to take a look around?” Mr. Snow asked. She did need to get pictures of the castle, a portrait could wait.

An interior designer must have come in and added the fixtures, she couldn’t imagine him arranging everything on an unused desk so meticulously. There were Mexican opals in nearly every room, dragons breath, no this was not Jon Snow’s touch. He had taken off his dress shirt, opting instead for the black shirt he wore underneath, before he took her through the halls.

She opened one of the hall windows to take a picture of the sea from the castle. Though the volcano was no longer active, hadn’t been for years the castle was warm as though the lava flowed through the walls. Like the hot springs warmed the halls of Winterfell.

The Chamber of the Painted Table was beautiful, Sansa had to switch her memory card half way through. Legends said the first Targaryen King had planned his invasion of Westeros from this very place. “If you sit in the chair you can see the map better,” Mr. Snow suggested. He offered his hand when she climbed the stool.

It was eerie, the feeling of sitting in a King’s chair. She almost felt powerful, her spine felt straighter in the chair. Mr. Snow was tracing the ridges of the map, and she saw another opportunity. He stopped when he saw her climbing off the chair, coming over to help. “No!” He looked taken aback. “Sorry, Mr. Snow please stay where you are.”

He backed away and she picked up her camera. He had stopped tracing the map so she settled for capturing the rise and fall of the map. “Jon,” he said, though softly it echoed through the hall. She lifted her eyes, “you can call me Jon.”

She walked with Jon to Aegon’s Garden. The original benches were made from obsidian, they were cracked and scattered around the garden. Replicas sat in their place, carved from marble. Jon passed by those for a cluster of wooden chairs, the shade didn’t subdue the muggy air. He gestured to the seat beside him. “It’s lovely out here,” she remarked. It smelled like pine, though no conifers grew.

"There’s a bog across the way, cranberries still grow there." Jon said gesturing vaguely. She twirled the lens cap between her fingers.

"Marg said you restored this place yourself," she picked up the camera again, trying to capture the dragon sculpture in the distance. Jon confirmed that. "Why would you put so much of yourself into restoring a place if not to make use of it yourself?"

"I don’t want it," Jon said. "The whole country is so fascinated by that half of me I just figured they should have it."

She had gotten out of her seat to catch another angle of the garden. “Will you tell me about home?”

He spoke highly of the Gift. The modest houses, with the acres of land between them. There was a farmers market every other weekend, everyone knew everyone there. When she turned to him again she saw it, but she couldn’t let him know. She discreetly adjusted her lens and raised the camera to take a few quick pictures, got it. “It sounds nice.”

"You could visit, if you’d like." Jon offered, she smiled at that. "There’s a little inn just outisde of town. "I’m leaving here tomorrow but I’d like to see you again."


	5. Stop-jealousy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Sansa gets worked up over things that may or may not exist. Special guest star Arya aka Sister Bonding

"Arya? Can I come in?" Sansa’s hand hovered over the knob, she hated when people barged into her room. She could hear _I have to go_ before her sister unlatched the door. Arya looked a little frazzled, Sansa felt guilty she was probably on the phone with Gendry.

Sansa followed her in, Nymeria was already laying on the full bed, tail wagging slowly as Sansa approached. Arya threw herself on the bed and Sansa followed. She closed her eyes, the sound of her sister scratching Nymeria’s ears breaking the silence. “I think Jon might be seeing someone else.”

The words felt wrong, but there was no easier, gentler way to say it. She wished there was someone else who could give her insight, all of her friends would side with her and tell her to call it off first. It would be worse trying to ask Robb’s advice; he’d either tell her Jon was totally going to call things off, or he would ask why she thought that and tell Jon about it. It was a risk telling Arya, but she had to talk about it.

Nymeria whined when Arya sat up. “Why do you think that?” _She knows something,_ it wasn’t paranoia either. Sansa had heard Arya tell hundreds of lies, she tried to keep her voice too level. “You brought it up, you have to tell me.” It wasn’t a _real_ rule. “I’ll ask you about it until you tell me.” Arya said seriously.

Sansa shifted in the bed tucking her palm under her cheek. Arya watched her purse her lips and leaned back against the pillow to wait her out. “I just have a feeling,” that was part of it at least. Arya stretched her hand down for Sansa’s, and squeezed her sister’s hand. Jon had just been different; no matter the shift he worked he would still leave his apartment early in the morning and arrive well after dark, and freshly showered. It shouldn’t have made her twist her fingers anxiously, the dark used to be a good place to hide from her fears; now it was a place for her anxieties to fester. She had stopped staying so frequently, not having the heart to end things entirely, or call him out since it was probably her fault anyway.

Randa had mentioned before that she liked to get cleaned up in between dates, it’s poor taste going to one man smelling like another. Maybe Sansa was looking for fault lines. She and Jon had been dating for nearly four years, and had known each other since, well since before Sansa could really remember. She trusted Jon, but that was when things had fallen apart in the past.

If Jon noticed he didn’t say anything. The nights she was there he acted like nothing had changed; his eyes softened when he looked at her, he still bumped his nose against hers before he kissed her, he still told her that he loved her.

"Jon’s not like Joffrey, or Harry. I know you know that," Arya said. "I think you need to wait it out," she sat up to look at Sansa. "Nobody’s gonna break your heart again. Trust me, and trust him ok?" Sansa nodded, she would try at least.

Promises couldn’t be kept in dreams though. They were never women she recognized, faceless but lovely. Always lovely and untainted by fear. They could walk easily through crowds, and laugh boldly. Jon deserved someone like that, someone who could love him fiercely. The way he fell in love, headfirst and fearless despite the prospect of heartbreak. She was like that before.Tick

She sat up in her bed. Lady sat at the window, whimpering and scratching her paw against the curtains. Tick, she climbed out of bed, wrapping a pink robe around herself. Tick, she pulled back the eyelet drapes. “Jon?” He had his arm coiled back again, but lowered it quickly “what on earth are you doing here?” She glanced back at the digital clock, 1:30 am.

"Can you come down?" He was practically vibrating with energy, it was rare to see him in such form. She should say no, that she doesn’t consider this a particularly good hour to come calling. Though she’d never had anyone throw pebbles at her window before, and he looked so earnest standing in the grass outside of her bedroom window; instead of saying no she nodded. Arya would have told her if something bad was going to happen; she couldn’t keep the nerves down, but she could trust her sister. She could trust Jon.

Sansa slid on a pair of leggings, and a jacket over her tunic; then braided her hair as she walked down the steps, skipping the third one that had creaked since she was a little girl. Before she walked out the door she backtracked to the kitchen to write a quick note, just in case she wasn’t back before the house woke.

Jon stood on the porch when she walked out, he smiled when he saw her, pulling her into his arms, and easing her against the doorframe. “I’ve missed you,” he whispered before dropping his mouth to hers. _Who’s fault is that?_ she wanted to ask but refrained. _Trust him._

His thumbs traced her cheekbones when he pulled back, staring at her with a near reverent look in his eyes. Then he ducked down for another, running his tongue across the seam of her lips, she parted her mouth and felt his tongue trace hers easily. Then he kissed her softly. She was breathless when he pulled away. “You didn’t wake me up just so you could kiss me,” she said softly when he tucked her into his chest.

"I know," he murmured against her temple. "C’mon," he led her to his car, opening the door for her before running to the other side. The car was warm, before he even started it. He’d only been waiting for her for a short time.

"Where are we going?" she asked as he drove just over the town line toward Crofters Village.

"Arya said you were upset." That isn’t an answer. Her face relaxed into a neutral mask. “She didn’t tell me why,” he added quickly; it was like him to defend her sister. He turned down a side street.

"I’m not upset," _I’m trying not to be upset._ She was surprised to hear him say he didn’t realize why she was in a mood. They’d spent so much time together he could usually tell her rough days from her best ones. He reached across the console to take her hand from her lap.

"I know I’ve been a little distracted, but I know you Sansa." He glanced away from the road for a minute, looking at her deliberately. It was like he could see through her.

"Where are we going Jon?" She turned from his stare, unnerved by the way his grey eyes softened. She didn’t want pity, she wanted honesty.

"I love you," he said squeezing her hand. "If I’ve done something to make you doubt that…" He frowned.

"I’m probably just being stupid."

"Never," he shook his head.

"Randa dates a lot of guys," she said. His brow pulled together.

"And you want to do that?" He said too evenly.

"I don’t want _you_ to do that,” she corrected. “If that was something you wanted to do that I don’t think I could bear it.”

He opened his mouth, then closed it, rethinking. “You’re it for me Sansa, I’m sorry if I made you feel like you aren’t. Like anyone could ever hold a candle to you,” He hesitated. “I wanted to surprise you, I didn’t think keeping you in the dark would make you worry so much.”

They were on a road he’d taken her down a few times on their way to Tumbledown Tower. The houses were all old, shingles falling off, with boarded up windows. Except for one. “Jon?” She looked between him, and the cottage.

"You can say no," he said. "It’s a big thing to ask." He parked the car in the driveway. He had taken her shocked silence as in invitation to explain. "We just finished it today. It still needs some work-"

"You built a house?" How could she underestimate his affection?

"Rebuilt it," he said. "For us, if you want." He kissed her knuckles, and she could feel her insecurities melting away. "Or you can say no,"

"You built a house for us." The thought had never worked its way into her mind. "Arya knew didn’t she?"

"I really wanted to surprise you."

"You’ve succeeded then," she laughed. She leaned over the console to kiss him. "I’m sorry," she whispered softly.

"What for?"

"For doubting you," she said. He didn’t say anything, she was sure he was a little hurt. "I know," she pressed his hand to her chest, still clasped in hers; "I really do know you wouldn’t hurt me," he rested his forehead against hers. "I told you, I was being stupid."

"Never stupid, you were nervous,"

"Scared," she said and took a breath. "Of losing you."

"I’m yours as long as you’ll have me Sansa."

"I know Jon." She paused, "do you still want me to live here?"

"Of course I do." He said.

"Will you take me on the tour?" He nodded opening his door, she followed suit, shaking off her anxieties. It was just her and Jon. She couldn’t keep comparing their relationship to the past because in reality they were the best kind of different.


	6. Library

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Library AU

When Sansa volunteered to take Rickon to storytime Robb was confused. He’d always taken their youngest brother to the library and spent the hour goofing off with Jon. He asked his sister about it and she just shrugged, “you were always rushing after school, it’s fine.”

It was more than that, Bran and Arya always stopped whispering whenever Robb walked in the room, but Sansa started smiling again so whatever it was it couldn’t be bad.

The second car broke down and changed the game, he and Sansa had to share her white coupe. He dropped her and Rickon off, and made the loop to pick Bran and Arya up. He was a little early getting to the library, “I’m just going to let them know we’re here,” He assured his siblings before climbing out of the car.

He saw Rickon sitting on the multicolored mat with other kids, but to distract him would be to end stoytime early. Sansa wasn’t by the magazine stand, where he expected to find her, or sitting at the public computers on her Facebook.

She was sitting on the circulation counter talking to Jon. They hadn’t noticed him yet, Jon was touching the end of her braid, and Robb realized why she seemed so much happier. If it were up to Robb his sister wouldn’t date any of his friends, he knew too much about them, especially Jon.

Jon glanced over and quickly let Sansa’s hair fall from his grasp. Good, Robb thought let him feel guilty, he should; but Sansa’s bright smile fell with her hair. She slid off the desk and walked to get her things. “She’s my sister,” Robb finally said watching Jon look properly ashamed of himself.

"I know," Sansa had her backpack over her shoulder focusing her eyes on the ground. She breezed past them, Jon watched after her looking like he’d been punched in the gut, Robb’s earlier instinct to do just that faded.

"You really like her?" She wasn’t at all like any of Jon’s old girlfriends. Still Jon nodded, bracing himself for the undoubtedly poor reaction he expected. Robb shook his head, if Jon was the reason his sister smiled then he couldn’t be too mad. “I don’t want to hear anything, and if you hurt her-“

Jon’s eyes were wide as saucers when he took off toward the exit trying to catch Sansa before she left. I guess it’s better him than Theon.


	7. Musician

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa liked to sing at Winterfell and my love for modern AUs took over... Jon/Sansa. Shes a famous singer and he doesn't realize that almost all the songs she has written are about him

She was hard to miss, even in a sea of people, Jon was drawn to her. “Come to the party Saturday,” she’d said. “I want you to meet the girls.” As though meeting the girls wasn’t daunting enough, the girls were the Westeros response to a girl band.

He’d grown up with the Starks; Robb was his first real best friend, he was the only one Arya would talk to when she was upset, he’d spent just as much time at Bran’s bedside when he was sick as any Stark, and Rickon still begged him to go to his tee-ball games. He never felt like he was on Sansa’s radar though, not until two years ago.

"Jon!" She tripped climbing off the bar chair, nearly collapsing into him for support. "I’m so happy you’re here," her lips brushed the shell of his ear, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath through his nose. Now is not the time,he couldn’t drag her into a dark corner, especially not tonight. She didn’t seem to notice his derailed thoughts when she pulled away, “have you gotten a drink yet? They’re really good,” she smiled brightly.

"I haven’t yet," he started.

"Oh, hold on then," she started to pull away, eyes darting around trying to find someone.

"I’ll get one later, let me look at you." Her head turned swishing her red hair forward. She didn’t have to do much to look nice, but Jon knew the Sansa he saw everyday was different from Sansa the pop star. Her dress tonight glittered from the dim lights around the bar, and short, very short.

"Do you like it?" She asked through her lashes.

"Pretty," he nodded, though no words could do her justice. She tipped her head up with a tipsy smile, a gesture he was familiar with. He obliged her silent request for a kiss. She opened her mouth almost immediately, draging her tongue lazily across his, humming in that pleased way of hers.

"Sansa!" She rested her head against his neck. "Sansa introduce us to your friend!"

It was a marvel to watch her transform. Sansa the star was no less lovely, but he could see the mask come down, her eyes steeled, she would always protect herself. “Marg, Myrcella, Arianne this is Jon.” She dropped her hand down to lace through his, sobering the slightest. Myrcella was the first to introduce herself to him, kissing his cheek and greeting him sweetly.

Arianne practically purred a greeting, Sansa didn’t even seem phased by that. Margaery extended a dainty hand with a surprisingly firm grip. “Why don’t you have a seat?” Margaery offered, like a queen from her throne.

"I’m going to get you a drink," Sansa said into his ear, squeezing his hand before she let go, leaving him in the lions den. Myrcella made small-talk, trying to make him comfortable, Arianne seemed to relish in making him blush, asking questions he’d never dare answer even if the guys had asked. Margaery just smiled in a crooked way, like she knew things he couldn’t even begin to dream.

"So you’re the guy?" she asked. He must have looked confused, Myrcella chastised her.

"Marg, don’t."

"Don’t you know?" This caught Arianne’s waning attention. Margaery was laughing now.

"Know what?" He wished he hadn’t bought in to this line of conversation. Sansa was still at the bar.

"She writes about you," Margaery said. She writes about me? “You really didn’t know?”

"No," he said softly. Her music would come on the radio and she would change the station _I hear this all the time, let’s listen to something else._ When she wasn’t in the car he would listen, he hadn’t realized the songs were about him though.

"Hi," Sansa ducked to kiss his cheek. "So, what’s up?"


	8. Help Wanted

Wolf blood that’s what her aunt Barbery said when the twins were born, Sansa had felt oddly proud of the approval. Aunt Barbery was never Sansa’s favorite aunt, nor was she her favorite niece. Sansa didn’t have the wolf blood, not like Arya, or Robb.

They weren’t fussy babies, not like she remembered Rickon when she was younger. She was awed by them every day, and the look on Jon’s face, well, that struck a chord with her too. As soon as the room cleared he climbed in the narrow hospital bed beside her, nervously cradling one of their sons in his arms.

They had Jon’s look, she’d known from the moment they were handed to her; they grew into their long faces, full mouths, and grey eyes. Even their hair was dark, Sansa didn’t mind that. Jon looked more like his mother according to his father, Sansa’s dad said so as well; she’d died when he was little. He would never say so aloud but he never felt like he fit in among his brother and sister.

As the boys grew older Sansa understood wolf blood was not in appearance alone, Cregan and Donnor rolled and romped on the floor seemingly out of nowhere until bumps and bruises blossomed on their fair skin. They would chase each other around the yard, one time she found them outside in the middle of the night. Sansa had to keep one eye on each of them. It was exhausting, by the time Jon got home she felt like she could sleep for days. Jon noticed near immediately, suggesting maybe a nanny would be helpful. Sansa tried not to feel insulted; she just had to try harder is all, her mom had five kids and never needed extra help.

She’d panicked when she was pregnant again. A horrible reaction, how could she keep up with three? By the time the boys were out of school for the summer she was showing, just over the morning sickness, but still tired in the way that growing a person made her feel. Jon watched her carefully, making sure she was always comfortable, trying to keep her happy. She would not fail him.

Aunt Roslin dropped by with her son one day, and told Sansa she would keep an eye on the boys if she needed to run any errands, or if she just needed time alone. Had it been anyone else Sansa would have shut them down immediately, but Aunt Roslin wasn’t taking pity on her. Hoster was a just a few years older than the boys, “he’ll run himself down, it’s better if he does it with other kids instead of me.”

It took her a long time to think of what she wanted to do. In the end she went to the grocers, and finished the weeks shopping in what felt like record time. She drove with the music up, listening to the radio instead of the boys CDs. She ran to the florist, just because she could, picking up something to dress up the kitchen, as well as a litle arrangement for her aunt. By the time she got home she felt refreshed in a way she hadn’t felt in a long time. The boys ran to greet her and she pressed little kisses to their foreheads.

Her patience felt restored, by the time Jon got home she’d had the boys help her with dinner. He couldn’t hide his surprise fast enough. “Good day?” He rubbed her back with a gentle hand, kissing her temple. She nodded.

"Aunt Roslin brought Hoster over and kept an eye on the boys," she explained while the boys looked like they were falling asleep in their seats.

"That was nice of her," he took the spatula from her. "Why don’t you relax, I’ll take care of this." After dinner they got to sit on the couch and watch a movie together, Sansa couldn’t remember the last time she was more awake than her sons. Cregan’s head rested on her lap, he said he wanted to talk to the baby and ended up falling asleep; she ran her hand through his hair gently even after his little snores began. Donnor was strewn across the arm of the couch to Jon’s shoulder. He carried the boys up one by one before rejoining her.

The closeness of him sparked her like a live-wire. She cast him a glance, then another; he focus remained on the screen, dragging his fingers up her arm. The third time she shot him a look he chuckled, “what?”

"Take me to bed?" She watched his eyes go dark, fumbling for the remote he powered off the TV before scooping her up. She slapped a hand over her mouth to quell a burst of laughter. It’d been a while, but he’d helped her out of her blouse and leggings before he shrugged out of his work clothes with ease. She’d come apart when he put his mouth on her, covering her face with a pillow, just in case. He helped her along a second time, before spending inside her.

They stared at the ceiling catching their breath when Sansa said, “maybe an extra hand once or twice a week wouldn’t be so bad.”


	9. Figure Skating

Sansa used to love when the rink was like this, freshly resurfaced, empty, quiet. It was easier than sharing rough ice with her siblings. Then it was only her and Joff sharing the ice, and she felt like she was on top of the world. It had been years, but after mom, dad, and Rickon got home from his little league practice she found herself with a packed bag on her way to the arena. She pulled her worn-in practice skates from the bag, nearly greyed from use, but the blades were still fresh. Nobody was watching her tonight anyway.

Her phone was hooked up to a little dock at the gate, she’d learned her lesson the first time she’d brought it on the ice with her, the violin vibrato echoed across the plane when she stepped onto the rink. She did a few easy laps, just to get her legs moving, it’d been too long since she tried this. Even though her tights provided little insulation from the chill her feet remembered what to do, muscles no longer protesting against the cold.

She rotated her feet the slightest bit and started an easy glide backwards, getting comfortable with the motion. You can do this, she told herself changing direction again, less gracefully than she was once capable of. Back inside, and she took off landing easily on the back outside edge of her blades. Her heart was thundering in her ears, gods it had been a long time since she’d done that, even longer since she’d done it alone.

Adrenaline was coursing in her veins after that, and she convinced herself it was from the cold room. She could do this alone, she hadn’t started off as a pairs skater, she would learn to fall back on herself again. Single toe, she vaulted and landed smoothly. Her confidence was gaining. She did a few turns, spotting on the Ice Dragons banner, wobbling a little after but she couldn’t let that shake her.

The Lutz used to be her fail-safe, she let the adrenaline get to her, thinking she could pull it off like she used to. Instead her toepick didn’t catch and she fell back against the ice. Her gauzy pink skirt was no match for the impact and the familiar numbness set in.

"You ok?" She heard someone call over the Tchaikovsky.

Her hands flew to catch her heart, as though it were likely to beat right out of her chest. “Gods be good Jon, you scared me!” He was walking out on the ice as fast as his boots allowed. Her ears were ringing as the fear lessened and her body realized she wasn’t in danger. He’d extended one of his hands, big even without the hockey gloves, down to her. He clasped her around the forearm, hauling her to her feet. The lift propelled her forward, sliding on her blades, and he stumbled back at the unexpected weight. Blushing she pulled away apologizing.

"I didn’t mean to scare you."

"It’s fine, I’m fine," she dusted the ice flakes off the back of her skirt. "Thank you," she added quickly, but she wasn’t really sure what for.

"If you give me a minute I can get my skates on, you usually do this in pairs right?"

This endeavor was meant to be a secret, she didn’t want anyone worrying about her. Once they realized Joff was hurting her they tried to remove her from the environment, it happened on the ice more than anywhere else. Dad figured the ice had too many bad memories associated with it, and maybe it did at first. Skating was what she was good at, even at the lowest point of her relationship with her pairs partner she wanted to be on the ice.

"I used to, yeah." Jon kept everyone’s secrets, but he was closer to everyone else, even Rickon, than he was to her. If she told him would he tell Robb? Arya? She didn’t want to worry them. Jon was shuffling over to his bag on the benches. "You don’t have to wait around for me," it would be easier to send him away.

He was trying to read her, a testament to how little he knew of her really. Jon didn’t end up pulling his skates out of the bag instead he moved it into the bleachers. “You shouldn’t be alone on the ice, if you hit your head or something. I can move up or something, you can pretend I’m not here if you want.” That was unexpected, she smiled thankfully when he sat behind the gate and restarted her music.

She alternated between trying to forget he was there and trying to impress him. A strange balance, but it seemed even when her audience was pretending not to be around she knew he was there. An audience was meant to have a reaction; he never had his phone out when she glanced up, he must have been watching her. It was when she managed a double axel she felt like she could try the Lutz again, that time when she hit the landing she smiled in spite of herself. She cooled down with some laps before making her way back to the bench.

Jon walked the way down and started to unhook her iPod, and the dock setting it to the side so she could pack it away. “I forgot how good you were,” he said sitting beside her. “You Starks had skates on the second you could walk.”

"It’s an extension of walking," she said. It was something her uncle Benjen always used to say when she was scared of falling.

"You miss it," it wasn’t a question.

"I do," she felt like a fish out of water without skating.

"Why didn’t you tell anyone?"

"I wanted to make sure I was doing it for me I guess," he’d already figured her out, there was no point in hiding. "I wanted to make sure I could do it on my own."

"Are you? Doing it for yourself?" He’d been watching her skate alone, that was an answered question. She nodded. "Good, it was good to see you happy."

"What makes you think I was unhappy?" She stood up slowly, preparing to leave.

Jon shrugged in response, “you just weren’t. I’ve seen you happy Sansa.” He hefted her bag up, “do you want to get a hot chocolate, like old times?”

"Sure," she agreed. It seemed Jon had some kind of insight on her, it was only fair she find out more about him.


	10. Model x Photographer 2

_Let me know when you land_ , he hit send and tried to get comfortable in the vestibule. He fidgeted with the collar of his shirt. 

_:)_ Was the response he’d gotten nearly half an hour later, he’d closed his book almost as soon as he opened it, filled with nervous energy, leaving nothing to collect besides himself.

His shirt was wrinkled in the back, truth be told he felt a little stupid wearing a collared shirt at the airport, but Gilly reminded him that it would be the first time he’d seen the pretty photographer since he first met her. “You want to make a good second impression.”

It was a bold move, bolder than any move he’d ever made before, inviting Sansa Stark to the Gift the day he met her. She hadn’t pressed about his background like most people did, interested in the part of him that never really felt like it fit. Her blue eyes focused on the little screen of the camera disarmed him, although that lens was pointed at him, he spoke freer to her than he had the reporter who’d called. It made him bold, he hadn’t expected her phone number and a promise of later.

He figured she was brushing him off gracefully, with good reason as he was a total stranger. He hadn’t believed she would keep in touch with him as she took his phone and programmed her number into his; even when she called her phone from his so he had her number as well. “I’ll text you when I get back to the mainland,” she promised with a smile as they parted ways.

Sansa was good at keeping promises it turned out. She would text him in the evenings to ask about his day, then he started to text her in the morning to see what she was up to. She never pressed about his royal roots. Jon knew she had a family in the North, that she had wanted to find a job closer to Winterfell before she’d even met him. She already planned to go home for the holidays when she called.

"I didn’t realize how close I was going to be," she said. "I’d like to see you," he grinned wide, "that is if the offer still stands."

Which was how Jon ended up at the airport waiting to see Sansa Stark again. He didn’t have to wait long, she had her camera bag as a carry-on, one time an airport lost some of her lenses for days she told him once. The picture on his phone didn’t do her justice, especially the look on her face when she saw him.

She took long strides toward him, pausing awkwardly before him. Jon hadn’t really thought about this, it seemed like Sansa hadn’t either. Their conversations had gotten so easy he had forgotten they really hadn’t seen one another, save for one day nearly six months ago. She stared at him through her lashes, opening her mouth to speak then rethinking. “This isn’t how I imagined it would be,” she said. Six months ago he would have run the phrase over, twisted it upside down, asked Sam what he thought it meant. Now he understood.

He extended his hand to her and walked to the luggage carousel. “What did you expect?” He could guess she’d been expecting what he was hoping for. She opened her palm in his, twining her fingers into the spaces between his own.

"Please don’t make me say it." Her cheeks flushed. "You aren’t a stranger, but," she sighed. He squeezed her hand urging her on, he wouldn’t budge until she felt comfortable. "But you kind of are, I know that doesn’t make sense.”

"It does though." He agreed. They hadn’t thrown labels around, although he’d told people about her. Distance was a test when pressure was added, she had no reason to keep in touch, they were friends. Still the charge between them warned him that it could change in a heartbeat.

"I don’t want to feel like strangers," she said catching his eyes. He nodded his agreement, and as though that made up her mind she leaned up and kissed him, a chaste kiss with a promise of more. He held her cheek in his hand, almost instinctively, even as she pulled away. "That’s better."


	11. Falling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I saw him and I just stopped. Everything stopped."

"How did you know you were in love with Jon?" Bran asked, they sat on the front porch of the Stark’s cabin. Everyone else had gone fishing, once he heard she was staying back Bran offered to keep her company. 

The question surprised her, her little brother hadn’t shown much interest in anything since the accident. He looked a little embarrassed at the question, rocking his chair back and forth, a recently developed nervous gesture. “Do you think you’re in love?”

He blushed, as he had since he was a little boy, the red blending into his hair. “I- I don’t- can’t you just tell me without asking questions?” So it’s a secret, she realized. Her heart warmed a little bit that he would trust her with something like this. 

"What would you like me to say? I saw him and I just stopped. Everything stopped." She smiled teasingly. "I’ve known Jon just as long as you have, love is about timing."

"What do you mean?"

"I wasn’t ready to fall in love with Jon until I fell in love with him." She said, and she saw his face fall. "I know that isn’t what you want to hear love, but love is about things falling into place more than anything." His brow furrowed, "when you fall in love everything changes for the better, but a lot of it comes from you." She paused; he was getting disheartened. "I didn’t love myself for a long time, when I did I was ready to be in love with someone else."

"You’re just saying that to make me feel better."

"No, I’m not. When you’re in love every part of you comes alive, and a lot of it is because you love yourself." He rolled his eyes, but she had been honest. At dinner he tried to involve himself in the conversation, he even cracked a joke. She saw her mother take her father’s hand in her own with misty eyes. He wanted to be ready for love.


	12. Unplanned

“Don’t touch me,” she practically hissed. “That’s what got us in this mess in the first place.” He was surprised the little white stick in her hand hadn’t snapped from her grip. She looked so small on the bathroom counter, legs pulled to her chest.

"It’s going to be fine Sansa, whatever happens." He had to be brave, it was his fault. He was supposed to keep her out of trouble, she was his best friends sister. Living in the same town, going to the same school, he was supposed to look out for her.

"What am I going to tell my parents if it’s positive?" She was crying now, and despite her earlier command he found himself rubbing his hand down her arm. He swore a long time ago he wouldn’t end up like his parents, a mess in their own right. How would he explain to Ned Stark he got his oldest daughter pregnant?

"We’ll figure it out, I promise." He found himself focused on the test as well.

"There is no we in this Jon. You can leave whenever you want. I’m stuck with the consequences.” She should know him better, did know him better than that. He knew she was angry, he would just have to change her opinion. If the time came, they didn’t even know for sure. “How long is this supposed to take?”

He looked at the timer on his phone. “It’s a minute-and-a-half test. We’ve got a few more seconds.” Jon watched Sansa watch the test, red hair combed back with her fingers. “I would marry you,” she gave a humorless laugh at that.

"Just the kind of proposal a girl dreams of."

"I’m not joking; I would never leave you to do this by yourself. Ever." The alarm started to chime, Sansa looked up at the ceiling with her red-rimmed eyes. "We’ll look together, ok?" She nodded, "one, two, three."


	13. Soulmates 1

She used to watch the numbers before she fell asleep. In the glow of the moonlight she imagined seeing only zeroes; hearing the tap, tap, tap, of stones on her window, and he would just be there. He would bade her come down and they would fall in love. 

Then she was envious, Arya’s countdown was much shorter than hers. It wasn’t fair, Sansa was three years older, why should Arya meet her soulmate first. It turned out Arya’s was the shortest of any of her siblings. She’d met Gendry when she was only eleven. It was strange to watch their relationship grow over ten years from friendship, since he was five years older, into what it was today.

Later she was scared. Aunt Barbrey’s wrist had gone blank one day, after she’d been married for years. Sansa would never forget the howl of anguish, they way she collapsed against the wall and wept until Sansa called mama because something terrible had happened. 

Now she was helping mama with Christmas dinner. She had stopped looking at her wrist years ago, it never bothered her, sometimes she could almost even forget about it entirely. One day the hours dropped into triple digits, and her heart raced until it dropped to 998. It was still over a month, and she pushed it to the back of her mind once more. 

Lady was yipping happily in the back yard, rolling in the snow with Shaggy, Summer, and Grey Wind. Rickon was chasing them, and Bran was throwing snowballs in the air for them to catch. “Would you mind getting the boys? They should start getting ready.” Mama requested from the potatoes. She could feel her pulse in her wrist, stronger than it should be. 

Sansa agreed, shouting out the back door for them to come into the house. In the end she had to shove her snow boots on and wrangle Rickon into the house, after falling victim to a few snowballs herself. She had to follow the boys up the steps to change out of her soggy sweater, and that’s when she saw it, 00:32:45. That couldn’t be right, it was a family dinner. 

She dried her hair, and changed into a nicer blouse than she had worn before just in case. 00:24:19. She had to stop looking at it. The table was already set for dinner, Arya and Gendry were making their way down from Vermont, and would arrive within the hour. Mama always tried to keep Rickon busy in the time between changing and eating. Mentally she glanced over the table, daddy, mama, Robb, Roslin, me, Arya, Gendry, Bran, Rickon, who was the extra spot for?

“Mama, is someone else coming to dinner?” Her pulse beat heavily in her wrist. Mama took in her breathless voice, the change of clothes, but it was daddy who answered. 

“Robb’s bringing Jon.” She must have looked confused. 

“You’ve met Jon before sweetling.” Mama said. “He lived with Robb at school. He’s come over for cookouts.” She was abroad for the last family cookout, and away at school for the one before that. Her wrist throbbed. “Are you ok Sansa, you look flushed.”

“Fine,” she heard herself squeak out. 00:04:09. She had heard about Jon before, she’d probably even seen pictures of him before on Robb’s facebook. He didn’t make her heart stop the way love was supposed to, he looked a little sullen, dark hair, but Robb wouldn’t bring an asshole home for dinner with the family. 

“Mom, will you come here!” Robb called from the foyer. She could hear him kicking off his boots, mama breezed past her. She could hear Robb explaining the dilemma. “It’s acting up, who’s he going to meet here?”

00:01:01, “what’s wrong?” Bran asked when she flinched. She was sure if he looked he would see the throbbing of her wrist. 

“Nothing.” She replied quickly, trying to hear what what happening in the next room.

“Robb, it doesn’t lie.”

“He knows everyone here,”

“It’s going to be fine Robb,” Roslin consoled. She hadn’t heard Jon speak yet. “Sometimes it doesn’t make sense until it does.” They walked into the dining room, and suddenly the pain in her wrist stopped. It was like someone had turned a dimmer light on high, and she’d been living on low. 

Jon was looking at her like she was the only one in the room. Everything was clearer. “Hello,” she said, feet pulling her forward. “I’m Sansa.”

“Jon,” he shook her hand and she felt like a live wire. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”


	14. Model x Photographer 3

Jon still had a hard time believing Sansa would move all the way to the New Gift for him. Where the summer was cold, the winter was colder, and sometimes they couldn’t see the sun from cloud cover for days. Still she had agreed to make the move from Highgarden to his little snow covered cottage.

He would never get used to how she looked sleeping beside him. The dawn kissed her face, casting shadows, making her hair look ablaze. She was always taking pictures of him, perhaps it was his turn to try. The bed creaked just slightly when he climbed out, but she remained still. She was meticulous when she packed her camera away, and he was thankful for that; he had no idea how to use it on its own, let alone the big lensed beast. Now how do I turn this thing on?

“Push the little button.” he could hear her bleary voice, and looked up. She was blinking sleepily at him but made no move to rise. 

“All of the buttons are little,”

“The one on top, next to the big button.” He pressed it and watched the screen come to life. “Have you ever used a digital camera before?” She teased. He glared back playfully. 

“Loads of times!” Once, but he was living with a photographer, how hard could it be. Sansa sat up on the bed, holding the sheet to her chest. He held it up to his eye.

“Why are you holding it like that?” 

“Isn’t this how you use it?” She sighed and gestured for him to come closer, but he stayed put. If he approached the bed he would get dragged back into it. While he would never protest the situation he wanted to capture this moment. 

“You don’t need to use the view finder because you have the screen.” She ran a hand through her hair, and smiled prettily. He always thought she was pretty, it wasn’t much of a description. She was better with words than he was, but he didn’t think she realized just how important she was to him. 

“Sorry, it’s been a while.”

“Did you use a disposable camera the last time you took a picture?” She stretched a leg to nudge him.

“Maybe.” Definitely.

“Why do you want a picture of me anyway?”

“Why do you want pictures of me?” He countered, pleased with the thoughtful way her face fell, top button, at least that hasn’t changed.

“I don’t want to forget anything. I want to remember how this feels.” She said, “I want you to understand how I see you.” He put the camera down and slid up the bed beside her, how could he not after that confession. The picture he’d taken was out of focus, he would later find out, after another hour spent in bed, when she reviewed the film. It didn’t matter. She had her camera; he had other methods of convincing.


	15. Sunburn

"You want me to do what?"

"Oh come on Jon," Sansa teased with a little smile. "You act like you’ve never touched me wearing less."

"Not in front of your family!" He protested when Sansa reached around to unclip her bikini top.

"I’m going to burn if you don’t!" She peeked over her shoulder to see that she had his attention. "Please Jon?" She offered him the little orange bottle of SPF 40. "If you do a good job I’ll get you back."

Jon took a deep breath before he started what he intended to be a quick, innocent ordeal until Sansa sighed. He’d heard that sigh before, often, a sound reserved for him. She squirmed a bit under his hands, “that feels good.”

"You need to behave." he murmured, pressing his palms firmly into her shoulders, trying to keep his focus on the task at hand, not that it helped matters. He knew her eyes were widened in innocence behind the big frames. "I’m serious," even though he was smiling, how could he not? "I can’t even say who would kill me first if they thought we were up to something."

"Probably Rickon," and she let out another one of those sighs when he rubbed the lotion into the small of her back. "Maybe Arya." She turned her head, "you’re not done already are you?"

"If you like all of my limbs attached to my body, yes." He re-hooked her top. She stretched when she stood up.

"If you’re sure." She hummed, "hop up, it’s your turn."

"What?" The first day of the Stark family vacation and Sansa was going to kill him.

"I told you I’d get you back."


	16. Neighbors 2

His dad was practicing, Jon wasn’t usually bothered by it. It was unusually warm in Winterfell so Jon opted to sit outside to read rather than stay inside. He just wanted to enjoy the day, no other reason. He could hear Arya talking to Rickon across the yard; Robb was an instructor at the camp down the road for the summer, Jon knew he had orientation. He thought it would be weird to just go over and hang out with the kids.

Balerion sprinted past him when he opened the door, faster than he’d ever seen the cat move. “Rhaenys,” he shook his head. Balerion always seemed to be gone these days, not that he liked to see Jon to begin with. He watched the cat wander into the tree line. He’d be back.

Jon was hardly through the third chapter when he heard a laugh from next-door, too high to be Arya’s. “Didn’t I just catch you here?” He heard Sansa say, then Rickon shouting about a cat. Balerion.

By the time he had gotten to the Stark’s yard the cat was winding himself around Sansa. The second he saw Jon he stilled, jerked his tail sharply. Oh for God’s sake. Sansa looked up as well when he approached. “He only does it when Rhaenys isn’t home,” Jon blurted out as she greeted him.

Summer was approaching, and freckles were blooming across her nose. “Oh?” She giggled and Jon smiled in spite of himself, it was a pretty sound. “Maybe he just likes me more than he likes you.” She suggested scratching under Balerion’s chin. The cat’s eyes closed and he nuzzled his face into her hand. Maybe the cat was smarter than Jon gave him credit for.

He watched a blush climb into Sansa’s hair and realized he must have said the words out loud. She stared at the ground, willing it to swallow her whole probably. Jon thought. “I’m sorry, can we pretend I didn’t just say that?”

She looked up and her eyes narrowed thoughtfully, weighing his words and sincerity, “I guess so,” She shrugged, pulling herself up with Balerion under her arm. “Well here you go,” she handed the cat over, “I should probably go inside,” even though it way was earlier than she ever left the garden during the week.

"I’ve probably ruined everything," he muttered to the cat. Balerion made a curious noise in response. Jon set him inside and shut the door quickly, praying that he wouldn’t wander into the Stark’s garden again, at least until his sister came home.

Maybe the gods didn’t pass along prayers to cats because Balerion did wander next door a few days later. Jon had it figured out though, convincing his brother to retrieve the cat instead. A stroke of genius considering he was still feeling pretty stupid.

Then Sansa’s voice carried over, “is Jon not home?”

"He is, just asked me to get him if he ran over." Great now he looked like a coward, but that wasn’t what made his stomach sink.

"Oh, all right," Aegon came back over without any struggle and Jon could swear that cat was glaring at him.

"That redhead’s pretty cute," Aegon said before he walked inside, "what’s her story?"

"Leave her alone Egg." He’d probably made things worse by replying so quickly, but Aegon laughed and made his way back inside.

Jon asked his dad for advice, it seemed like the right thing to do. It was difficult to weed through the important information, his dad liked to expand upon things for hours before he got to the point, but in the end it was simple. Music. He figured he would make Sansa a mix tape to apologize about a week into his forced separation. That worked in movies, it could probably be applied to real life. He was planning on bringing it over the next day, made a proper cover for the thing, and a little note that he intended to throw into the bin when Balerion wandered in and wound himself around Jon’s legs.

His sister warned him that domestic cats could run fast, "up to thirty miles and hour," she cooed at the cantankerous cat in her arms. He hadn’t been a witness to the feat, and doubted that Balerion could move at anything but a brisk pace. He was just sneaky. Well, he was proven wrong again. He didn’t even know a cat could carry a CD in its mouth.

Maybe Balerion knew Sansa in another life because he had an uncanny knowledge of when to seek her out. Before she broke up with Joffrey she was always with someone, now she was almost always alone save her family.

His effort to make it there seconds after the cat were futile. Sansa was looking at the note. “Sorry, it- it had my name on it.”

"S’ok, it was for you." He’d jammed Egg’s shoes on by mistake in his hurry, and was obviously dressed for bed, but he intended to give the mix to her, just tomorrow, or maybe in a month, or a year.

"Did you mean what you wrote?"

"Yes," he rubbed the back of his neck. "But you can ignore that if you want. I don’t want you to feel…" but then he realized he didn’t really know how she felt.

"No one’s ever made me a mix tape," she smiled softly. "Like in the movies." She moved over on the porch swing, "will you stay and listen with me?"

"Really?"

"Yeah," she walked inside and returned with a little stereo, and sat down closer to him than before. The music started to play and her head dropped on his shoulder; he could feel her humming along. Cat’s didn’t wink, but he would swear Balerion gave him an approving look before trotting back home, leaving them alone.


	17. Soulmates 2

Sansa didn’t seem like a girl who could sit in silence; he wished he could think of something to say, anything. It had been a shock to him, just as it was to her (and her family he supposed). She had introduced herself, he couldn’t believe how nice her voice was.

Robb spent all of dinner glowering between them. Jon knew it was rude to stare, tried very hard not to, but gods how could he be right for Sansa Stark?

"Sometimes it doesn’t make sense until it does," Roslin had said. So after dinner Jon asked if she wanted to talk. Except he couldn’t find any words to say, and she had started to wring her hands.

Robb had mentioned his sister just finished going to school, but that seemed so impersonal. This was the girl he was going to spend the rest of his life with, surely she expected more than the same line all the guys at school used.

She had taken to playing with the ends of her hair as the silence continued. He couldn’t remember if she had a boyfriend, maybe that was why she hadn’t been able to look at him since everything went clear.

There had been a few times when she opened her mouth to say something, but seemed to think better of it. He wasn’t known for his words, but felt more and less guilty when he realized she couldn’t find anything to say. Maybe there was a mistake in their countdowns, maybe the whole process was confused.

"My mom was going on a blind date with my uncle when hers went off," she said softly, looking at him through her lashes. "My dad was the one who opened the door to let her in."

"Really?" He didn’t know that. He really didn’t know many people who could say with certainty that their marriages, arranged by the Crown, were happy and fulfilling. He always hoped that his would go off and give him a place in the world.

"I know it doesn’t make sense right now," she stood up and moved to the oversized chair he sat in. "Maybe it won’t ever make sense," and he moved over in the slightest to make room for her; "but the world went clear when I saw you, and before we make any decisions I think we should give this a try."

"Of course we should," why would she think he didn’t want that?

"Oh," she seemed startled even as her hand linked in his. "I just thought… It’s just you didn’t seem like you were thrilled that it would be me."

"Of course I was- I am! I’m just sure I’m not your first choice. Your brother’s friend and all."

"You must be a good guy if Robb spends so much time with you," she smiled. "I think we should break the tension." He looked up at her.

"What do you mean?" And he watched her eyes dart down to his mouth, oh. “Yeah, that sounds like a good idea,” he felt himself going red from how deep his voice went at the idea.

Sometimes people talk about the world going hazy when they kissed their soulmate. For him it was like the first time he put on his glasses, everything was sharp when her lips brushed his. Perhaps they’d both intended for it to be a quick kiss, but her hand brushed his cheek before knotting in his hair.

He’d spent so much time watching his countdown, the minutes felt like hours, days felt like years. It would never feel like enough now.

"Hey have you seen- oh!"

When did he pull her on top of him? Bran stood in the door blushing. Sansa was clambering to a separate spot on the chair smoothing her hair. “Sorry Bran, what were you looking for?” But he was already out of the doorway calling for Robb.

The sky had gotten dark, her lips were swollen but she was laughing and he felt a smile on his face as well. “Do you want to get dinner tomorrow?”

"I’d love that," he could feel the tattoo of her pulse in his wrist. "We should probably get back," she rubbed her thumb over his zeroes.

"We’ve got time."


	18. Lost 1

Sansa sat primly in the passenger seat with her floral duffle bag on her lap. The road was quiet as he navigated the rental car across the Vale. Jon cast an occasional glance across the car; she was illuminated in blue from the dashboard, and an orangey glow from the street lights. 

It had only been two years, but the Sansa he’d once known was hidden beneath dark hair dye, and labeless clothes. She held herself the same way, straight-backed, gracefully; he’d only recognized her because of that. If her mother knew he had picking her up in a gas station on the side of a freeway she would lose her mind. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” 

“Not really,” she smiled in a way that didn’t quite meet her eyes. “I guess I should though, since you came all the way out to get me.”

“You don’t have to. Anyone would have done the same.”

“Jon?” He didn’t want to answer his phone but Sansa’s voice had him wide awake. “Jon, are you there?”

“What’s wrong?” He could hear her sobbing. “Sansa?”

“I’m sorry to bother you; I didn’t know who else to call.” She hiccuped, “I’m lost.”

He was already out of the hotel bed fumbling in the dark for his pants. “Where are you?” He asked, then realized how stupid that must sound. “When was the last time you knew where you were?”

“I was at the Eyrie,” She said pausing, “I got on a bus to Runestone, I think I got off at the wrong stop. My phone can’t get the internet so I can’t pull up a map.” He stopped shoving things into his pack.

“Can you see any road signs?” Why was she heading to Runestone? Why was she leaving her aunt’s house in the first place? He was relieved that she called him; she wouldn’t be lost and alone for too long.

“What, for directions? I’m by a Spruce Street, and Falcon Way.” Falcon Way was the main road that went through the Vale, fortunately it only crossed one Spruce Street.

“I’m on my way.”

“My aunt Lysa only listens to her husband. He wanted to set me up with this guy.” Jon wondered if he should pull off the road, give her his full attention. “He was cute, better than Joff at least,” he knew she moved down to the Vale to get a fresh start after Joffrey. “We didn’t have much chemistry, but Petyr thought it was a great match. Once I wanted to get out of it Petyr had already booked a church.”

“So I’m driving you away from your wedding?”

“I guess so,” she leaned against the window but put her attention on him. “Lucky you were here.”


	19. stuck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> extension of [this](http://jeeno2.tumblr.com/post/91118305308/youd-better-hope-its-sansa-on-the-other-side-of) nonsense

“Don’t say a word.” Arya mumbled. Sansa hummed innocently. “I mean it, if you tell anyone about this I’ll tell them that you and Jon have been hooking up for weeks.” Her sister started to blush.

“We’re not-“ she hesitated. “How long have you known?”

“Since you offered to help him find something in the shed last month.”

“Ned, have you seen that mosquito spray?” 

“I think we packed it away last year Mrs. Stark.” Jon answered instead. “I bet I can find it.”

“I’ll come with you,” Sansa offered catching more than one odd look. “I have to make sure we have the torches for the party.” She grabbed the key, and led the way to the back yard. Everyone else might have fallen for it, but not Arya. Sansa had thrown the torches away last year personally. They were up to something

They walked out of the storage room together, Sansa was smiling shyly at Jon who was smiling at her. Then Sansa reached up and brushed his bottom lip with her thumb, lipstick, Arya saw her say. Then they laughed, Jon catching her under his arm for a second, before pulling away. 

“If you want to keep it a secret you shouldn’t be doing it under everyone’s nose.”

“You’re one to talk. Did you really just think you could walk out of the pantry and no one would think anything of it?” Sansa laughed, “you’re secret’s safe with me.” She looked at Gendry, “you’re lucky Jon wasn’t in here or you’d be answering to much worse.”

Arya and Gendry followed her out, and she wondered how nobody else had caught on when Jon’s eyes lit when Sansa made her way over to him.


	20. first date

Rain fell heavy and hard as they sprinted into his truck, at least Sansa was laughing about the whole thing, that made it harder for Jon to feel sullen. She was smoothing out her hair, more chestnut than auburn with the rain. He started the car so it would warm up, this was a disaster.

Maybe their first date was doomed before it even started. Sansa deserved nice restaurants with wine menus, and jazz music. Instead she was drenched in the front seat of his car holding a basket with soggy ham and cheese sandwiches. He watched her shudder as she caught her breath.

He should have rescheduled after the store ran out of turkey cold cuts. Or when he had to buy diet Pepsi instead of diet Coke. Sansa had been a good sport through it all, “I’m having a nice time Jon,” she insisted, like she could see his indecision. She deserved better than a nice time.

"This isn’t exactly what I had in mind when I asked you out." He knew he could have asked his dad for money; he would have been able to take her to the nicest restaurant in the state with cash to spare. "I’ll make it up to you, if you want to go out again that is."

"Are you joking?" She asked. "This is more thought than anyone else has given me on a date," she offered reaching over for his hand. "You didn’t plan on the rain, but I get to hang out with you." She lifted his arm to wrap around her. "How many girls get to say that?"


	21. Sing-alongs!

Alysanne was a daddy’s girl. From the day she was born she took to her father, Sansa would never forget the look of wonder in his eyes when she wrapped her little hand around his finger. Her first steps were toward Jon’s coaxing voice (her first word was mama, Sansa had taken the cake on that one); Jon fed her easiest, got her to sleep faster. If he didn’t delight in it so much Sansa would feel envious.

Some mornings she would wake up and find their bed empty, only to see him asleep in the nursery with Alys sleeping against his chest. She gathered their daughter from his grip and put her back in the crib on those mornings, stroking Jon’s hair until he woke. “Sorry, I must’ve-“

“It’s fine Jon,” she kissed the crown of his head. “Your neck must be sore.” She murmured pressing her thumbs into his neck. His head dropped against her chest. “Thank you for getting her.”

“It’s our bonding time.” He shrugged. “You two get the days, I’ll take the nights.”

The days were event filled, but never with the bonding that Jon had with their little girl. Sansa and Alys had the grocery store, running to the hardware store before it closed. Their days were messes and nap times. She would bear the burden of practical days so Jon could have his nights of whispers and cuddles. 

He came home late one day when Alys was about three, looking particularly pleased with himself. “I have one word for you,” he smiled kissing Alys on the forehead, speaking to Sansa.

“What’s that?”

“Sing-along.” He scooped some potatoes onto his plate. “Alys wanted to sing in the car yesterday, and we both know she didn’t get that from me.” Sansa laughed in agreement. “So I stopped by the store and got these,” he set some DVDs on the table. “I thought maybe after dinner you guys could have some time.”

After dinner was always his time to spend with Alys since she’d started sleeping through the night. It was never an exclusive moment, but Sansa understood how important it was for him to be as present in her life as possible. Her throat felt tight at the offer, which was foolish she was just as much Sansa’s daughter as Jon’s. “Thank you,” he took her hand in his and squeezed. 

“Of course,” he kissed her knuckles and Sansa wondered how she came to be the luckiest woman in Westeros.


	22. rebels

Sansa could count the seconds after she shut the door to her chambers before the knock. Jon would never disappoint her. It was always like this after Joffrey held court. She would return to her room and Jon would find her. There was usually enough time to stop her hands from trembling, between the knock and her answer. He pulled the door open without her answer, moving briskly to her side.

“We’re leaving,”

“No,” she turned on him.

“He’s only getting worse.” Jon shook his head, “he could kill you tomorrow.”

“Things got out of hand today,” she agreed. “He doesn’t usually have them hit my face.” She knew there would be a bruise, still so fresh it was only red. Jon reached to cup her face, thumb rubbing over the mark, as though he could erase it if he tried hard enough.

“It won’t happen again,” he vowed, serious grey eyes finding her’s, “I’ll kill him before that happens.”

“You’ll do no such thing. Winterfell needs us, needs this cover.” 

“Not like this, Winterfell needs you alive.” His eyes softened, still cupping her cheek, she knew what was going to happen next. He took her breath away when he kissed her, lips parting before they even met. Jon was her anchor in all of this, she didn’t think her parents realized how close they would become. He pulled her close, mindful of the bruises he knew littered her back. 

“I needed you alive,” she breathed. “When you were undercover in the North, in a situation more dangerous than this.” She wouldn’t bring up the first girl he loved, it was before they were anything more than friends. “I will get what we need, and then we can get out. I just need more time.”

He sighed heavily, into her neck. “We’ll stay for a week, after that we leave. With or without the intel.”

“Fine,” she agreed carding her fingers through his hair. “Now,” she tugged on his hair pulling his face up, “kiss me again.” Jon never disappointed her.


	23. diary 1

"This is a terrible idea," Jon mumbled knowing Theon wasn’t really listening. He wasn’t really sure why Theon wanted to sneak into Sansa’s room in the first place, but he figured it would be safer if he kept an eye on him. 

Sansa’s room was pale pink, all her furniture was white; Jon had only ever looked in quickly, to tell her dinner was ready, or to see if she would be much longer before they left for school. It was cleaner than Arya’s room, like she would notice any movement he made, it would be better to keep still. He tried not to fuss with the lace of her bedspread, he picked up a book from her nightstand. Safe, books were safe.

Joffrey asked me to the homecoming dance today. I didn’t want to tell him that I was hoping someone else would ask me- this was not safe. Jon thought she was happy dating Joffrey Baratheon, who did she want to ask her to the dance? He continued, just to be sure she was safe.

I let Joffrey kiss me after the dance, I wish I hadn’t. I just felt so pretty, even Robb said so! Jon didn’t even go to the dance, he stayed in the boathouse until we go back. He didn’t like the idea of going to dances, he was surprised Sansa even noticed. I wish he would have seen my dress. Why?

He could hear Theon rustling around, he still had time. Skipping ahead to the last page he started to read. Jon’s been sulking in his room, Robb said it’s because his girlfriend broke up with him. He must have loved her, I think I would be happy if Joff broke up with me. 

“What are you doing?” Oh no, Sansa was standing in the doorway with tears welling in her eyes. Her face was turning as red as her hair, and all he could do was sit on her bed diary in hand feeling ashamed of himself. “Were you reading my diary?” her eyes darted to the book, straining to see just how far he read. 

“Theon-“

“Do you do this often then? Come in, have a good laugh.” She took the diary from his hands, white-knuckled she continued. “It must be such a thrill to know a silly little girl has a stupid crush on you.”

“What? No, Sansa-“ his face fell, why would she think that?

“Can you just go?” He wanted to say something, but not when Theon could hear. It was all he could do to sputter out,

“You should be happy,” as he left. If she wanted her boyfriend to break-up with her she should just end it herself. He heard the distinct sound of her throwing the diary into the little trash bin well into the night. He would fix everything in the morning.


	24. secrets

Secretly Sansa loved nights like this. They happened so rarely, especially recently; but maybe that was what made them so special. It was a long-standing break up tradition, which was why it seemed wrong to say it out loud. 

When Joffrey broke up with her Jon’s apartment was closest, well really it was the same distance to Robb’s but she could count on Jon to sit with her without leaving to punch Joff in the mouth, though he wanted to. He just lifted his arm and let her curl into him and cry into his shirt until all she could do was laugh. It wasn’t that she was sad for things to end with Joff, it was a long time coming, and maybe that was the problem; she let it go on for too long. She was eighteen then, Jon was twenty-one and he uncorked a bottle of wine and let her drink her fill. 

He never told Robb anything they talked about. Break-up nights turned into the nights they shared their secrets. He told her about his parents after she told him what really happened with Joff. He was the only one who knew how badly she wanted to leave college for culinary school. They had never fallen on the same night, her relationships ended more often than his, in part because he was so rarely in relationships to begin with. 

She was twenty-two when she proposed the idea. It was after she broke up with Harry, the third guy in a year she’d gone with who turned out to be a dud. It was the wine that made her say it, definitely not Jon’s wide grey eyes. “I’m afraid that no one will ever want to marry me.”

His arm was around her shoulder, hand running over her hair. He wouldn’t give her a convenient answer, not that she wanted one. “I can’t think of a better person to marry.” She pressed herself closer to his side, blushing. “You’re going to find a guy who appreciates you like you deserve.”

“Why not you?” She felt the words fall from her lips. His hand stilled in her hair quickly she added, “not right now!” And he relaxed. “Just in like ten years or something, if we don’t find someone who appreciates us.”

“Ten years?” she watched his Adam’s Apple bob.

“Is that not enough time?” She could feel the heavy rise and fall of his chest under her cheek. 

“It’s,” he paused, “it’s fine.”

“If it’s not you can tell me, if you don’t want to-”

“That’s enough time, more than enough time.” He unwound his arm from her shoulder. “You’ve gone through a few break-ups, it’s making you unsure of yourself.” He took a big gulp from his glass. 

“I’m sure you would be good to me, to anyone.” She watched his shoulders slump in resignation, hand coming up to rub at his neck.

“What I’m going to tell you has been a long-time coming ok?” he waited for her to nod. “Ten years is more than enough time because I can’t imagine ten more years without being able to call you mine.”

“Are you saying that you like me?”

“I’ve been waiting for the right time. I didn’t want to tell you after you break up with someone.” He mistook her silence for rejection, it was obvious from the quick way he deflected it. “If it makes you more comfortable to forget I said anything-“

“I don’t want to wait either.” She said, knowing she had liked him for about as long as she had started to come by. 

“You don’t?”

“No,” she lifted herself to her knees to meet his eyes. “I really don’t.”


	25. bathtime

“I think I’m in love Jon,” she sighed sinking further into the water. “I don’t think I’ll ever leave this bath.” She stretched a pointed toe out of the water to stop the faucet. 

“What do you do when the water goes cold?” He arched a brow teasingly.

“That’s what you’re for isn’t it? To keep me warm,” her head tipped back, the ends of her hair went dark, she didn’t mind though. Especially not when Jon was looking at her the way he was. He hadn’t turned from the counter, yet his gaze was intense even through the mirror.

“Should I join you then?” his voice wavered with desire. She loved his need for her; more than his need she loved that he always waited for an invitation.

“Only if you want to,” she’d hardly finished the phrase before he tugged his sweatshirt off. She hummed appreciatively when she caught a glance of his broad back beneath his tee-shirt, “go slower.” His hands stilled at the button on his jeans. It was quite possibly the first time the words had come from her mouth, but he caught her meaning. 

“Should I turn on some music too?” he asked jokingly before toeing off his shoes. She laughed when she might have blushed in the past. 

“Maybe next time,” she rested her chin in her hand as his hands went to the button of his pants. His chest flushed red, probably at the thought of next time. Her eyes darted across his body, his briefs clung tight to his erection; he was sliding them off as he walked toward the tub. She slid forward so he could climb in behind her.

His mouth was hot over hers, open, sliding his tongue into her mouth. It was far sloppier than she expected it to be, water was sloshing over the edge of the bath, and she couldn’t quite catch the right angle from over her shoulder. “I love you,” he said with his face pressed against hers. Their earlier teasing forgotten, traded for bold need. 

Jon was gentle, no matter how ready she was. He palmed her breasts with tender hands, murmuring things in her ear that made her go red. Calling her sweet, calling her filthy, calling her his. She arched against him, she wanted to be closer, needed to be closer to him. His face was tucked into her neck when his hand dipped lower. 

She slipped down, chin hitting the water, “sorry,” she mumbled trying to pull herself back up. With her hands braced on the edge of the bath she knew she would be able to stay upright, but even then it was difficult for Jon to get a firm enough pressure on her clit to bring her off. She sighed, and he caught her meaning murmuring an apology into her neck. “’s not your fault, they don’t tell you bath sex isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.” 

“We can keep trying,” 

“Or we can move to somewhere a bit more comfortable.” 

“But you love this bath,”

“And I love you more.” She shrugged climbing out of the water.


	26. diary 2

I’m sorry.

The first note fell out of her Calculus book Monday. It was Jon’s writing, she was familiar enough with the slope of his letters. She tucked the note away again, he couldn’t even look at her to apologize. The knots in her stomach reemerged, hopefully Jeyne could drive her home until the school year ended. At least when she was at home Jon stayed separate in the boathouse. Her lesson started and she tried to focus on her graphing calculator instead of the scrap of paper she stuck in between pages 211 and 212.

At dinner Jon stared at her dolefully from across the table when he thought she wasn’t paying attention. A week ago her cheeks would have gone warm with pleasure if Jon stared at her in front of her family. She probably would have convinced herself that he liked her, now she knew it was just his guilt. Jon liked college girls, if the rumors were true. She was a child compared to his last girlfriend. 

“Were you staring at Sansa?” she heard Robb pull Jon aside when she started to walk up the stairs. Would Jon tell Robb what he read?

The next day she found another note. When she was sitting in English it fell out of her copy of Emma. Joff sat behind her, she didn’t even open it. She wished Jon would just drop it, she didn’t need a daily reminder. She heard her boyfriend laugh behind her, Sam Tarly flinched in front of her. What did I ever see in him?

After class she sat at a table in the library during her free period. Pulling the paper from her pocket she stared. You deserve better. She frowned, the suspicion that he’d read more than the last page proven. She wouldn’t break up with her boyfriend just because Jon thought it was a good idea. At least Joff talked to her, even if he wasn’t the greatest guy.

Sure she didn’t like him picking on, well everyone. She didn’t like that it made people weary of her even though she never did anything wrong. She wasn’t crazy about the condescending way he talked to her, or the way he looked at other girls when he was with her. She didn’t like that he let his friends tease her, he never stood up for her. 

“Do you ever wonder why I’m still dating Joffrey?” she asked Jeyne once they pulled out of the school lot.

“All the time.”

The next day when she opened her locker a new diary sitting on the top shelf, with a little lock hanging open on the edge. The twin keys on top were shaped like hearts under the matte tape, it was quite obviously from a girl’s store. She smiled tracing the edge, it was a sweet thought.

Sansa, 

I figured I should replace your old diary, since I’m the reason you threw it away. They had the same one at the store, but then I thought you might like to have a lock on it. I promise I won’t ever try to read it again, but just in case you don’t trust me I had to go with this one. If you don’t like it I’ll get you the same exact one as before. I’m sorry again, for everything. 

-Jon

ps. I saw the picture from homecoming, you looked radiant.

Joffrey broke up with her before the Valentines Day dance. He called when he was supposed to pick her up. Dad was furious, even Theon said he’d give him a swift punch in the face once he saw him. “It’s going to be ok Sansa,” Robb hugged her. “You’re better than Joffrey anyway.”

Everyone always said it, but that didn’t make it better. She could hear her dress crinkle when she fell back against her bed; she didn’t even want to be Joffrey’s girlfriend anymore. The diary was still in her backpack, and tonight felt like a good night to start writing. 

She filled three of the little pages, front and back, when a knock startled her. “I’m ok mom,” she called. 

“It’s Jon,” he sounded hesitant, “can I come in?” Suddenly Sansa was very aware of how wrinkled her plum dress was and the imprints the lace of her bed spread left on her thighs. Still, she said yes, and heard the handle turn. He sat beside her on the bed, feet firm on the floor. “Hi,” he said and she felt shy. “Arya told me what happened.”

“It should have happened a while ago,” she said wringing her hands in her lap.

“He’s an ass.” Jon said with conviction, from the corner of her eye she saw his hand rise and fall back to his side. 

“You don’t have to say that.”

“It’s true though,” and his hand reached over to take hers. “You’re writing in it?” the diary was laying on her bed.

“Yeah, thank you. For the notes too.”

“You’re welcome.” She remembered why she liked to sit with Jon before, it was easy to be quiet. “Do you want to dance?” 

“What?” 

“I know it’s just here,”

“I’d like that.” Dancing, well swaying, with Jon in her bedroom was better than dancing with Joff. His hands stayed on her hips, and he hummed along to the music she turned on. It was almost like a fairytale.


	27. jealousy

Her hands were still shaking when she made her way into the bathroom. She knew the odds were high that his ex-girlfriend would be here. He might have even brought her here knowing that Ygritte would be around. Maybe he was using her to make his ex jealous, I’m going to be sick. 

She crouched down in the little stall, wishing she’d brought some water in with her. Jon was getting her a drink when he got distracted, and all Val had was a pitcher of dark beer. Val was good at sharing, and goading her into drinking more. “It’s not fair that I’m so drunk and you’re not,” she rationalized topping off the pint glass again, and again. All the while Jon sat on a barstool, with his ex beside him. Smiling that stupid smile he had when he was engaged in good conversation. 

Talking was one thing, she didn’t mind that, had no right to mind it. She talked to people all the time. It was when the redhead reached over and brushed her thumb across Jon’s face casual as can be that she saw red. When Jon stayed in his spot instead of picking up their drinks she staggered to the bathroom. 

“Sansa?” she could hear Val pull open the stall door. She braced herself on the cubicle walls to rise, legs tingling from crouching. “Good?”

“Fine.” She nodded, opening her purse. She couldn’t go back looking like she’d been upset, indifference was her armor. Sansa Stark didn’t get jealous, maybe if she said it enough it would be true. Jon never gave her a reason to feel like that. He hadn’t had many girlfriends, but they left impressions on him; Ygritte was his first love, she taught him… everything. 

Vaguely she could hear Val call her name as she walked out of the bathroom, catching sight of Jon at their hightop table once more. He made a startled noise when she grabbed his wrist and started to pull him toward the door. 

“Where are we going?” He asked when the noise of the crowd dissipated. She could see his car and hoped he had his keys in his other hand. He was pressed between her and the car, concerned about her silence until she kissed him. Sansa always set the tone, it was an unspoken rule established early in their relationship. Her fingers tangled in his hair, teeth tugging on his lip, feeling his groan down to the tips of her toes. “What’s gotten into you?” he chuckled. “Not that I mind.”

“I won’t lose you without a fight.”

“Lose me?” his eyes softened, then fluttered shut when her hands crept under his shirt. She leaned up again to kiss him. Only he was tender, in a way only Jon could be with her nails digging into his bare back. “Sansa, sweet girl, what’s going on?”

“I love you, and that counts for something right?” She said into his neck, half hoping he wouldn’t hear.

“It counts for everything,” he kissed her brow. “You never need to worry about losing me.”

“Even if it’s to someone you loved before?”

“Sansa,” he ran his thumb over the apple of her cheek. “Never,” 

“Will you take me home now?” She nudged his jaw with her nose.

“Absolutely.”


	28. Football (Robb x Margaery)

Not another goal, a groan sounded from the other end of the bar timed perfectly with his thought. He’d been watching matches in the same bar for years, nobody supported the Direwolves. Still, the young woman across the bar looked just as disheartened as he felt as the Lions scored another goal.

He tried to return his focus back to the screen. From the corner of his eye he noticed men approaching her only to be brushed off. By the half she moved from her seat, leaving her empty pint glass behind. The vacant spot was filled in seconds and Robb mourned the loss; he’d never had someone to cheer with.

The bartender set a refill down in front of him. He had taken the first sip when he heard the barstool beside his drag. “Do you mind?” She was prettier close up, he could feel himself gesture awkwardly for her to take the seat. “There’s nothing worse than cheering for the losing team by yourself.”

Robb agreed with that, “I wouldn’t peg you for a Winterfell fan,” he trailed off hoping she would take the hint. 

“Margaery.”

“Margaery,” he repeated liking the way it felt on his tongue. “Can I get you a drink?”

“I suppose.” She shrugged teasingly, with the loveliest smile on her mouth. “But I should warn you I want Casterly Rock to lose.”

“Don’t we all.” Robb grumbled nodding for the bartender.

“My brother plays for Highgarden,” she said in the same voice and he understood. “Can I still sit here?”

“Robb,” he blushed at the sound of his voice, deeper than he intended. “So long as you’re against Casterly Rock the seat’s yours.” Margaery ordered a beer and the second half began. Robb forgot how nice it was to really watch a game with another person, Jon would feign interest for a while before retreating, Theon was only around for the booze. The woman beside him slammed an open palm on the counter when an unfair penalty was called timed with his shouts of frustration. She could predict the plays as well.

“It’s all in the footwork.” She said sagely, leaning close to point at the screen. “When he wants to go left look at how he stands. Faker,” Robb found it quite difficult to concentrate with her leaning so close. 

In the end the no amount of cheering could help them beat the Lions. 

“I’m sorry your team lost.”

“Surprisingly I’m ok,” Robb answered. “ It’s not so bad when you have someone to watch it with.” She smiled easily, prettily at his bold flirtation. “I’m meeting some people for dinner tonight, if you want to come?”

"You know, I think I will."


	29. accidentally married 1

They only arrived that day, spending four days planning Robb’s bachelor party. Sansa dragged him around, determined to see each famous landmark in one day. “You’ve never been here either, come on. It’ll be fun.” She smiled so brightly he couldn’t even think to say no.

 

He only became aware of the tenuous line he walked when it came to his best friend’s sister recently. Before the trip of course, perhaps around the holidays when she insisted he sit beside her at the dinner table, or when she invited him to go ice skating with some of her friends. 

She stared at the flashy hotels with wide eyes, pointing out landmarks from movies, only pulling out her phone to take a quick photo. What surprised him the most about their tour was her fascination with the little chapels, scattered like coffee shops in a city. Sansa nudged him with her shoulder, bringing their proximity to his attention. Once he realized it he couldn’t stop, her fingers grazed his unintentionally when they moved down the crowded streets together.

The lights made her eyes sparkle and her hair gleam and for a blinding second Jon considered kissing her. The idea was gone as quickly as it came, for he knew once he kissed her he wouldn’t be able to stop. Instead he shoved his hands into his pockets, focusing on the walk ahead of them. Beside him Sansa clasped her hands before her, sending him occasional glances that he tried his best to ignore. Even if she wanted him as much, their relationship would jeopardize all others. 

He couldn’t cross that line.

If Christmas laid the kindling, Vegas lit the spark. When Jon invited her he didn’t realize just how much there was to plan. Jon hadn’t considered just how much time they would be spending together. Maybe it was Jon who really lit the spark.

It was Sansa who pulled him into the chapel after dinner and drinks, more drinks than they should have had. “Why would we be here without visiting one?” She asked. “There must be something magical about this place if people want to get married so badly.”

He never asked his mother why she married his father here. It didn’t seem like it mattered much, he was born after they divorced with a firm conviction that he wouldn’t marry unless it would be forever. Sansa told him on the first day that her mother would kill her if she ever got married in one of the little chapels, which Jon doubted.

Catelyn Stark might kill him if he married her in Vegas, then Robb would bring him back only to kill him again. But when the bride offered to sign their certificate somehow he found himself face to face with Sansa before the officiate, smiling over their secret. They were breaking the rules set before them, she started to giggle, pressing her forehead to his. He cut the distance then, and knew his feeling was right. He didn’t want to stop.

Sansa was the one who slid the Do Not Disturb sign over their door before she caught his bottom lip between her teeth. He would remember that night forever. 

“Jon?” Her voice was so soft, thick from sleep he almost thought she didn’t mean to wake him. She was closer than he expected, beside him in his bed with a sheet pulled up to her chin. “Jon I think we did something last night.”


	30. teacher x parent

There were days when her son was all Harry. Ned was gallant, and charming at his best; then there were times when Ned would look as he did now and Sansa would see much more of herself in him than his red hair and blue eyes. He focused on his twisting hands as they waited outside the classroom. “I’m sorry mom,”

 

His little knuckles were bandaged up, and the tell-tale signs of a bruise were beginning to show on his cheek. His behavior started to change when he got back from his father’s house. It was part of their custody agreement. Ned returned more roughened than before, Mama told her that’s how all boys were at his age. Sometimes God tests us, her mother said, but he will never give you more than you can handle. Of course that was after she decided to file for divorce.

 

Now she wondered if she was to blame for this behavior. Was she not paying enough attention to her son, was there something he was wanting for that she couldn’t give him? The only influences he had were constant, her father, sister, mother, and brothers. Often he was more like Bran than anyone else, thoughtful, curious, gentle, Sansa would credit that to her younger brother living with them. This was something Rickon would do, had done.

 

“Do you want to tell me why you did this?”

 

Another boy shuffled by with his mother, it was their turn now. Ned wouldn’t get a chance to explain. When they stood up Sansa pressed a gentle hand to the back of his neck, frustrated as she was now was not the time for her son to feel like he was alone.

 

The teacher behind the desk was younger than she expected, extending a hand toward her he said “Mrs. Hardying.”

 

“Stark.” She heard her son’s voice correct in time with her own.

 

“Sorry, Miss Stark it’s nice to meet you.” It was her first meeting with Ned’s teacher, if she saw him somewhere else she might have called Mr. Snow handsome. That door closed the minute she decided to focus on Ned’s best interests.

 

“Well I suppose you heard what happened?” He shifted the stack of papers on his desk.

 

“Actually I haven’t.” Ned continued to look at the ground.

 

“Ned got into it with two of the boys earlier today.” He tried to catch her son’s attention as she tried to keep her composure. The test will never be more than you can handle. “We don’t condone violence here, and fighting comes with a mandatory five day suspension.” He was steeled off, too steeled off, he’s sympathetic.

 

“I’m sorry to hear that, fighting is very out of character for Ned.”

 

“They started it.” her son protested. “They were picking on one of the new kids, and dad said he used to get in fights all the time, and Uncle Bran says that it’s important to stand up for people who can’t stand up for themselves.” Ned insisted, looking at her tearfully.

 

Mr. Snow looked at Ned, “Your uncle is a very smart man, but there are better ways of standing up for someone. I used to get into fights when I was in school and I got into a lot of trouble. I realized that I wasn’t really doing much good because I wasn’t always going to be around to hit someone when they bullied someone else. I learned to go to the people who had the ability to stop it.”

 

“That’s what your teachers are here for, my love,” Sansa smoothed his hair.

 

“You’re not mad?”

 

“I can’t be mad at you for doing what you think is right, but I need you to promise no more fighting.” She fixed her face into a serious stare, kissing his forehead when he nodded. “Go and get your backpack. Just because you’re gone doesn’t mean you’re not doing your homework.”

 

“He’s a good kid.” Mr. Snow said once Ned walked through the door. “You’ve done a good job with him.”

 

“Thank you,” she said accepting the credit graciously as she could. “And thank you for telling him that story. I think you really got through to him.”

 

“It’s part of the job.”

 

“Well thank you nonetheless; I hope this is a one time thing.” She said, realizing how that must have sounded she added, “not that meeting you wasn’t nice. It’s just that under different circumstances maybe…” Maybe what? She wondered, why was this man making her so tongue tied. “It was nice meeting you Mr. Snow.”

 

“Jon,” he said quickly, “and maybe I’ll see you again Ms. Stark,”

 

“Sansa,” she smiled, “and maybe you will.”


	31. accidentally married 2

She could feel the shift of his face when she picked up his hand and started toying with his fingers. The blue tint from the screen cast a familiar intimate glow on them, sitting just far enough from each other that they could be counted as close friends, certainly not married. 

It was funny just how long their impromptu wedding lasted.

At first they didn’t want to overshadow Robb’s wedding with an announcement of their divorce. Then Arya brought her boyfriend to the Stark home to introduce him to everyone, and there was no reason to rain on her parade. Then there were vacations, Bran’s graduation, Rickon’s first game and suddenly a year had passed.

It was a comfortable year, one where she had grown comfortable with her lawful companion. Even if they didn’t live together, or even see each other every day. Jon respected her, sometimes the way he looked at her made her stomach flutter. The genuine delight he took in her presence made her blush. That and he let her fuss with his hands as though they were her own.

“Do you want a ring?”

He looked at her curiously when she remained quiet. Still fussing with his hand she said, “Why would I need one?”

“It’s been a year since Vegas, I just thought if we were really doing this you should have a ring.” His voice got softer the more he spoke.

“Doing what? Being married?” She stopped twining his hand in hers, “shouldn’t we tell someone first?” His eyes widened at the thought. 

“Do you want to tell someone?”

“We probably should.” She reasoned, “then we’ll have to do other things of course.”

“Other things?” Jon asked, as though they could continue on as they were. 

She hummed in agreement, “we’ll have to move-in together.” She glanced over to gauge his reaction, “my mom will want to do something since we didn’t invite anyone to the ceremony. Like we could have invited everyone with us,” she laughed a little at the thought. “Are those things you’d want to do with me?”

“Yes,” he answered quickly. “If that’s what you want, I mean.” 

“I wouldn’t have suggested it if I didn’t.” She squeezed his hand.

“Really?”

“Yes really, I like you,” more than like you but that’s neither here nor there. “I think we would have found time for paperwork if you didn’t like me.” She would have told Aunt Lysa she needed a day off if he wanted to go to City Hall; just as she knew he would have taken a personal day if he really wanted to end whatever this was.

“I…” He swallowed and she watched his Adam’s apple bob. “Would you still want to stay married to me if…” 

What was making him so nervous? His eyes went down to their twisted hands before he clenched his jaw and stared at her resolutely, bracing himself for something.

“Would you want to stay married to me if I felt more than that. If I loved you?” And all the words she had were lost. “It’s fine if you just want to do this as friends, or whatever. But I figured you should know before you made any decisions that I love you. I have for a long time.” 

“That’s why people get married isn’t it?” She murmured into their hands. “Because they love each other.”

“Well yeah but-“

“Well if you love me, and I love you,”

“You don’t have to say it because I did.”

“But I mean it.” She closed the distance to kiss the corner of his mouth. “And I can’t wait for everyone to know about it.”


	32. delayed flight 1

“Delayed?” Jon groaned gripping the counter. “It can’t be delayed.”

“We apologize for the inconvenience sir,” the man behind the counter said, too insincere for Jon’s liking. Glowering, Jon made his way back to his seat. His aunt insisted he get to Kings Landing as soon as he could. Take the jet, she insisted. He hated the jet, the Red Keep, everything about being royalty. Any airline could get him there, he just didn’t realize there would be such a delay.

He collapsed into a vacant chair, raking a hand through his hair. 

“Eager to get going?” The woman beside him spoke softly, when he turned to answer her he noted that her hair was dyed. Not that it mattered, only it was so obviously red colored brown it was impossible to miss.

“Eager to get this over with.” He answered. “What about you? This is probably ruining at least one of your plans.”

“I don’t mind.” She meant it, which was odd. In a terminal full of people, each and everyone more irritated than the next, this woman was content to wait.

“What brings you to Kings Landing…”

“Alayne. I have business there, but not the sort I’m looking forward to.” If she recognized him she didn’t show it so he contented himself to stay in his seat and share the silence with her. She relaxed into her seat and leaned close to his ear. His heart started to race.

“See that man in the black suit?” She asked gesturing discreetly. Jon followed her eye line and nodded. “Don’t panic, but he’s been following me since I parked my car.”

He felt his fists clench, and jaw tense. “You’re sure about that?”

“Positive,” she reached over and placed a hand over his urging him to relax. “He thinks I did something bad.” She didn’t say it coyly, she was serious.

“Did you?”

“If I say yes? Would you let him take me?”

He wouldn’t, no matter what it was he couldn’t imagine the stranger beside him doing anything so seriously wrong to require such measures.

“Never.”

“That’s a strong statement,” she smiled easing back into her chair again. 

“Whatever it is I can help you.” He promised.

“You don’t know that.” She shook her head.

“Why did you tell me then?”

“You can deliver a message, you have all the contacts, don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about. If he gets to me first, before I can get away.” She said.

“What is it?”

“I need you to find my sister Arya and tell her that I’m sorry.” And it clicked, her disguise, her crime.

“You’re Sansa Stark.”


	33. lost 2

Catelyn was the first out of the front door when his truck pulled into the Stark’s driveway. He could hear Sansa’s hand moving on the leather of the seat when he stretched his hand across to find hers. “It’s going to be fine Sansa.”

 

“What if she’s mad at me?” her voice sounded so small, her hand gripped his so tight he knew her knuckles would be white. There was no reason for her parents to be upset with her. Jon knew that, and deep down Sansa knew the same. It was because of what happened. Petyr Baelish, her aunt’s husband, had gotten into her head. 

If Jon hadn’t agreed to bring her home he would have gone straight to the Eyrie and dealt with Baelish’s idea of taking care of his niece. Sansa looked back every few minutes as they drove, and each backwards glance fueled Jon’s rage. She didn’t tell him everything that happened, but he could guess. Catelyn Stark wouldn’t be mad at Sansa, but he would bet her anger would bring down an entire town.

“If you’re uncomfortable and you want to leave squeeze my hand three times,” he demonstrated feeling her hand relax in his., “you don’t have to explain, or make up an excuse. I’ll get you out of there.”

Catelyn gathered Sansa in her arms, “what happened darling?” Maybe it was finally returning home, or knowing she was safe, but Jon heard her hiccup into a sob. Catelyn guided her into the house, but Ned waited for Jon. 

“Thank you,” he clapped Jon on the shoulder nodding solemnly. 

Sansa left space beside her on the love seat, glancing at him so briefly he’d have missed it were his eyes not trained on her. She gripped his hand like a lifeline, as though it were the only thing keeping her afloat. Her mother seemed surprised but said nothing, five children built their patience. Jon could still recognize the worry in their eyes, he’d known it firsthand, but still they waited until Sansa began to speak.

It was as though she couldn’t stop the words once they started. Some were things Jon already knew, that Lysa agreed with most of her husband’s wishes. That Petyr arranged the dates between Sansa and Harry, booked the church, took her shopping for the dress. All the while Lysa stayed content, her husband was happy, he son could spend all of his time with Sansa. Life was good for everyone, except Sansa herself.

It was a moment reserved for family, this reunion. Jon left for the Army just weeks after Sansa left for the Eyrie. It was almost six years gone, and he’d seen her parents more in that time than she did. She wanted him there, so he would hold his temper, and wait patiently for her to dismiss him.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Catelyn asked, her eyes soft and sad.

“I thought you knew.” She told Jon that on the drive, she figured Aunt Lysa was telling them everything that was happening, all Sansa wanted to talk about was her brothers and sister. “I didn’t realize it until Petyr told me you weren’t coming to the wedding.”

Her grip on Jon’s hand loosened, she felt safer. 

“It was lucky Jon was in the area.” Ned said. Lucky wasn’t the word Jon would use to describe the work trip. That he could help someone, after delivering the worst kind of news lessened his guilt.

Sansa looked over at him with a shy smile. He still wasn’t used to that look; having been the recipient of it for the three day ride he was hopeful that maybe his heart wouldn’t try sputtering to a stop every time she looked at him like that. 

The silence hung over them, Sansa talked herself out and was leaning against his arm. Catelyn rose once it became obvious her daughter had nothing else to say, she didn’t say it but it was obvious she was going to call her sister. Ned walked over and kissed the crown of Sansa’s head, murmuring something soft and affectionate into her hair. 

Then they were alone.

Jon thought she fell asleep, the sun was setting in the Stark’s living room, soon the kids would be home. She’d want to see them, and while he’d been a guest at the Stark house more times than he could count it felt like something private. She knew she was safe here. He let go of her hand, and she looked up at him with an unasked question on her lips. 

“I should get going.” He didn’t want to see the sad look in her eyes, more than that he didn’t want to be the cause of it.

“Do you want to stay for dinner?” She asked, offering him a line. 

“Do you want me to stay for dinner?”

“I wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t mean it.”


	34. twin bed/delayed flight 2

“The less of a fuss we put up the easier this will be.” Sansa said letting the door shut behind her. 

“But they think-“

“I know what they think,” Sansa combed her hands through her hair pulling it back. “It’s better than the truth.” She wondered what bothered him more, that the innkeeper thought she was his 

call girl, or that he was on the run with a fugitive. 

The less attention they drew the better off they would be. They were risking everything stopping at a hotel in the first place. He was a prince, whether he liked being in the public eye he was easy to recognize, but they’d been driving for days. Arya wasn’t in the heart of the Crownlands, so they made their way to the outskirts. 

Jon started to get tired first, his lashes fluttered every few seconds when Sansa said she could take the wheel. He didn’t trust her that much, instead he insisted on driving until he found somewhere to stay. They weren’t clear when they requested a room, and it would draw too much attention to make a fuss.

So here they were a prince and a woman on the run looking at a twin-sized bed. “It’s only for a night,” she said softly changing the approach. The sooner he accepted their fate the sooner she could sleep. “I promise I don’t bite.”

They started back to back, until he broke the silence. “Why do you want to apologize to your sister?”

“We parted on bad terms.” Sansa said turning to face him. “She thought I was choosing Joffrey over family. She got away, I didn’t. He died, the Lannister’s want me to pay. I don’t want her to remember me like that.”

“You’d let them take you after that?”

“I’ve been running for years Jon. They’ve been following me just as long.” Even in the dark she could find his eyes. “I’m so tired of running.”

He hummed sadly. “I’m sure there’s someone out there who would come to your defense.”

“I was young. Maybe if I asked different people for help at the time it would have been fine.”

“The Queen could help.” Jon insisted. “She wants nothing more than to find justice.”

“And to make enemies of Petyr Baelish, House Tyrell, and House Lannister.” She scoffed, “it’s a nice thought, that the Queen would value what’s right, but to make waves with one of those people is asking for tousle, all of them would start a war. I’m not worth that.” She rolled back over, hoping he would let it drop. 

“You’re wrong.” He said softly, soft enough that she wouldn’t have to react to it. “You want to make things right, the world would be better if you just came forward.”

“I just want to find Arya. Can you please drop it.” She could feel the tension in his arms, in his chest, and shoulders. The twin bed really didn’t allow for secrecy. 

“I’ll change your mind,” he promised when he thought she was asleep. After one in the morning she felt his arm wrap around her waist and she thought to herself maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to be convinced.


	35. inappropriately timed confession

God I love you.

Sansa was bouncing Robb’s son against her chest, cooing and conversing. He hadn’t told her that, not yet at least. Soon though, hopefully before Christmas. He wanted it to be the best proclamation she’d ever been the focus of. She deserved that and more, she was used to well-to-do men, with names that opened doors, and somehow she wound up with him. And more than that he wanted her to be ready to say it back if she wanted. 

The room had gone awfully quiet, and looking around he started to realize that everyone was staring at him. Robb was frowning deeply, Jeyne’s hand was on his arm encouraging him to stay in his seat. Bran looked up with his thoughtful stare looking between Jon and Sansa. At his side Arya let out a disgusted, “eugh,”

He said it aloud. 

The only person who seemed unfazed was Sansa’s mother, a surprise in itself until he really thought about it. Sansa told her mother everything, if anyone was aware of the enormity of his feelings toward Sansa it would be her mother. 

Sansa’s eyes were raised from the baby’s shoulder, a blush was probably creeping up her chest right now, it certainly wasn’t the time or place to be thinking about that though. Even her father was staring him down like he knew he was thinking about Sansa’s chest. Her family had hardly accepted them as a couple, and he had to blurt out a prolific confession to the woman he planned on marrying someday. “Stupid.” he muttered, Rickon stared at him with a furrowed brow, the only one who couldn’t fully grasp the magnitude of the situation.

“Hey,” Sansa’s voice was closer than he expected, her hand brushed against his wrist. “Let’s go outside for a minute.” She didn’t link her fingers through his, he would follow though, of course he would. Robb was still frowning when they made their way up the stairs. Sansa pulled the sliding glass door open, shivering in the crisp autumn air. 

The glow from the kitchen light was enough, and she looked at him through her lashes. She stretched her arm out to him then, taking his hand and smiling. His mortification began to fade when peals of laughter echoed to the trees. Soon his laugh mixes with hers and she tugs him close. 

“Did you mean it?” He put his arm around her, rubbing his hand up and down her arm, covered in gooseflesh. Like she could feel how nervous he still felt she nudged him teasingly. “It’s not something you can only say once.”

“I plan on saying it more than once.” Jon retorted nudging her back. “I just wanted the first time to be good.” She giggled at that. “I mean it, I at least wanted us to be at dinner. I didn’t mean for all of House Stark to be there.”

“Some of House Stark though?”

“Well of course some of them, Bran seemed to take it well.”

“Arya’s always thought of you as her brother, same for Robb. It’s going to take time for them to get used to their brother having feelings for their sister.” She smiled coyly, “I don’t think of you like a brother if that helps.” 

“I’d hope not,” he kissed her temple. “I wanted it to be special I guess. I wanted you to feel special.”

“It felt pretty special that you couldn’t stop yourself from saying it.” She said, turning her head into his neck, her nose was cold against his collarbone. “You could say it again, you know if you want. Just us.”

“I love you.” He said firmly. “So much that I can’t stop myself from saying it.”

“That’s good, because I love you too. And I like hearing you say it.”


	36. haunted house

She didn’t know why she agreed to the adventure in the first place. It wasn’t Arya’s goading, anymore than it was Robb’s insistence that she didn’t need to come with them. In the end they both considered her frightened, she’d been through scarier things than haunted houses before, truthfully it should be easiest for her. 

A group of them crammed into Robb’s car, and Sansa’s heart tittered anxiously. Everyone rocked with the car when her brother turned into the lot, following the direction of men in orange vests. One by one they slid out of the car until Sansa remained in the middle seat wringing her hands. 

“Sansa?” Jon peered into the back seat. “Are you ok?” She nodded, not trusting her voice to remain steady. He extended his hand helping her out of the car. Robb grinned brightly when they caught up. 

This doesn’t look so bad, she thought as they walked through the hay bales. In fact it looked a bit ridiculous. Fake smoke was coming from under the doors, there were more strobe lights than should ever be necessary, if a house was haunted it wouldn’t have so many lights. Really there wasn’t anything to be scared of. Two by two they were led into the house; Jon met her eyes trying to make sure she was still ok. 

The first room was the easiest, she could still hear the noise from outside, Jon’s steps creaked behind her. And suddenly it was like a wall came up, the lights were dizzying and hurt her head. When she reached her arms out to find her way to the next room she instead felt a person and let out a yelp of fear. The hand on her back made her jump.

“Hey hey, it’s just me.” Jon yelled over the noise of the house. He ushered her quickly out of the first room and into a second. The recorded screams were dulling and she felt Jon lean close, “Are you sure you’re ok?”

Her heart was still racing when she nodded her head, but he didn’t seem surprised to feel her hand clutching his when a chainsaw sounded. 

“We can turn around if you want,” He offered eyeing her like a woodland creature. 

“No, I can do this.” People were squeezing past them in the hall making their way forward while she stood still. “Can you just…” She pursed her lips looking up at him, “can you hold on to me?”

“Sure,” was he blushing? It sounded like he was. “We can leave whenever you want.”

She’d never known anyone to just leave a haunted house, but she didn’t doubt that Jon could if he wanted to. He didn’t grab onto her hand like she expected when they started to navigate their way down the hall, instead he wrapped his arm around her waist, keeping her closer then he otherwise would have been able to. 

The thudding of footsteps coming after them made her tense up, she could feel her palms start to sweat, and she was glad Jon wasn’t holding her hand. “Do you trust me?” he said into her ear and she frowned.

“Yes,” 

“Stay still.” And sure enough the running stopped. The actor went so far as to remove his mask to make sure things were ok. 

Sansa didn’t think she’d ever be able to go through a haunted house again. But Jon made it bearable. He took the fear out of it better than anyone else could have, keeping her grounded. His arm was still around her when they made their way out of the house. 

Robb lifted his eyebrows at them, staring until Jeyne nudged him. 

“Do you want to go again?” He teased.

“Absolutely not.” Sansa laughed, still shaking a bit. “ Jon was way nicer than any of you lot though.” 

“With good reason, right Jon?” Robb joked, and she watched Jon blush truly. “I mean…”

“Can we talk for a second? Away from everyone?” Jon asked her, grinning broadly when she nodded, letting him lead her off for a second. The distant sound of chainsaws weren’t the only thing making her heart race then.


	37. group costumes

Sansa pulled the door open seconds after he knocked. She smiled breathlessly stretching up to kiss him before he walked through the door. Usually she waited until they were somewhere private, but today she pressed him into the doorframe with ease. 

“Hello to you too.” She giggled into his shoulder. 

“I’m happy you’re here,” his thumb rubbed circles on her hip. “But I do have bad news,” her voice was muffled.

“What is it?” his brow furrowed tipping her chin up to meet his eyes. 

“I might not be able to make it to that party tomorrow.” She started to fuss with his hands. “And I do want to go,” she continued. “It’s just that someone has to take Rickon trick-or-treating tomorrow.”

“Is that all?” He’d been expecting worse. Much worse. “We can take him and get there late, it’s not a big deal.”

“What? Really, you don’t have to come. I can meet you.” She pulled away to look at him with disbelief. 

“Of course I’ll come! What are we going as?” He felt her drop his hands, as she made a move to shut the door. 

“I didn’t actually think we would be going in costume.” She smiled. 

“Well we should, it would make your brother happy.” Jon walked with her, resting his hand in the small of her back.

“This was your idea!” Sansa called through the guest bedroom door the next day. 

“I know,” Jon answered looking in the mirror and feeling more foolish by the second. Rickon would like the group costumes, but even though Jon tried his on a day before he didn’t think he could leave the room. 

“Jon, it can’t be that bad.” 

“It’s short,” the shorts were short, and bright. Everything about this was too bright. How did he think he could wear this? He could hear Rickon thudding around the halls impatiently. “San I don’t think I can go like this.”

He couldn’t hear her sigh, but he knew she did. “Jon I have to leave, and if you don’t want to come with us that’s fine.” He did want to go with her, Rickon was as good as a brother to him. “I’ll be home around seven thirty, and then I’ll get ready to go.”

The steps groaned as she made her way downstairs, he could hear her explaining in her gentle voice to Rickon that Jon wouldn’t be joining them. He was making his way down the steps in his stupid green shoes when Rickon started to wail. Sansa was crouched beside him in her costume, with the mask resting on top of her head. 

Their eyes jumped up when he got to the landing. Rickon darted wrapping himself around one of Jon’s legs, while Sansa adverted her eyes and covered her mouth. She was laughing at him. “Are you really coming with us?” Rickon asked, while Sansa was standing up. Jon nodded extending his arm down for the boy to take. 

“I couldn’t let my team go without me,” and without further delay Rickon charged out of the door leaving them in his wake. Sansa reached over and tugged his mask over his eyes.

“You look pretty handsome,” she smiled adjusting his collar.

“I look ridiculous, how does your costume cover more than mine?” 

“I think my costume was modeled after Batman’s, but you’re Robin, his costume isn’t modeled after anyone else’s.” Jon hummed at her logic. “Now come on, let me show you off. The sooner we leave the sooner we can go to the party.”


	38. Graveyards (Arya x Gendry)

Robb talked about the haunted cemetery a lot. He and Jon used to go there when they were younger and snoop around, Arya knew he took girls there now. But no matter how much she begged when she was a little girl the boys never took here with them. Until a year ago she probably wouldn’t have thought to bring anyone with her, but she’d watched enough horror movies to know not to investigate a haunted cemetery by herself. 

She couldn’t help that she was the bravest of her friends. There was one friend she was sure she could convince. If he wasn’t feeling like an old man, even if he was she could talk Gendry into anything. Well probably. He was always at work, or in the shop fixing up some car. 

“You never hang out with us anymore.” Arya said jumping onto the least cluttered cart. It swayed a little, what with the wheels on the bottom of it. Gendry watched nervously for a second, looking like he might leap over and catch her. “I’m not going to fall,” she rolled her eyes and he went back under the car.

“I’ve just been busy ok?”

“You work with my brother and I still see him all the time.” She rocked the cart from side to side. “If you’re avoiding us or something let me know and I’ll let you get back to brooding.” 

Slowly he rolled back from under the cart. “I’m not brooding.”

“Prove it, come to the cemetery with me.” She hopped off the cart, “I dare you.”

“You dare me? Are we in third grade?”

“Are you a chicken?”

“No,”

“Do I have to double-dog dare you or are you going to say yes?” She started to poke his middle, it frustrated him the most when she did that. So he squirmed and tried not to laugh before shouting his agreement. 

“Good, I’ll see you tomorrow at nine,” She made to leave the shop, but paused to add, “wear black.”

Gendry was like Jon in a lot of ways, weird ways, maybe that was why she started to hang out with him in the first place. They didn’t have much, only because they refused it. Her dad would have helped either of them if they would have accepted it. Gendry did have one nice thing though, his dad’s old car, vintage, left to him when Robert Baratheon died. 

He cleaned it compulsively, wiping finger prints off when he thought no one was looking. She purposely ran her fingers along the side of the car before pulling it open, shooting him a challenging stare. 

“How do we get to this place anyway?” Gendry asked when she clicked the seatbelt across her lap. “You do know how to get there right?”

She navigated him to the back roads, all the way to the edge of town where instead of asphalt there was gravel. He hardly flinched when some of it got kicked up by his tires and knocked around the inside of his shiny black car. It was practically dark, and what light there was blocked by the trees that lined the road. 

Robb and Jon never told her just how dark the cemetery was when there was light out, she couldn’t imagine the trees allowing much of anything to be seen. There wasn’t even a real road to drive down, just a little dirt hill. At least he kept his headlights clean, she could see the path; she hoped his phone was charged all the way, they would need flashlights.

As soon as Gendry cut the engine they were put into complete darkness. “So you want me to investigate a haunted cemetery with you in the dark because…”

“If any zombies come at me I know I can push you in front of me.” 

“Comforting,” he laughed pulling a flashlight from his glovebox. 

They started to walk a path, Gendry jumped more at the noises in the woods than she did, and he dealt with her teasing like he always did. “So do you want to tell me why you’ve been avoiding all of us?” She couldn’t see him, but it was obvious that he was trying to protest. “Don’t try to lie either, I know when you’re lying to me.”

“It’s just easier innit?”

“Why would it be easier?” She frowned stopping and leaning on a headstone.

“You’re all going to school soon, really soon. Nobody wants someone as old as her brothers hanging around.”

“I don’t care about any of that. And fuck anyone who does.” She tugged on his thick arm and pulled him back to join her. 

“None of you should feel like you have to come back to hang out with me. I figured if I cut the chord you guys would just forget about me.” Arya rested her head against his bicep then looking up at him even though he really couldn’t see her.

“Don’t be stupid. Who else would come out on a night like this? Nobody. You’re my partner in crime, always have been, always will be.”

“That’s it?” He laughed, moving his arm around her shoulder, “friends for life, tough shit.”

“Like you’d have it any other way.”


	39. handcuffs

"You look really good in that," Sansa said from over a martini glass. Jon’s blush mingled with his beard, and his cheeks already pink from the alcohol he consumed. "Really," she trailed her fingers down the snap buttons of the shirt, "really good."

"Sansa," she knew she had him, as though she might not. His voice was soft, reserved for the bedroom. With good reason, it made her heartbeat pick up, and her stomach twist. She hoped she looked braver than she felt when she leaned forward, so close that her lips brushed the shell of his ear, and asked

"Do you think those handcuffs work?"

At first she worried she scared him away when he walked over to Mance and clapped him on the shoulder, kissed Dalla on the cheek and made his way back over. “We’re leaving,” he said taking her arm and pulling her along.

"Oh are we?" Sansa teased following along. “A little early to be calling it a night isn’t it?” She continued even when he pressed her back against the wall, “officer don’t you think this is inappropriate?” He smiled against her mouth before kissing her, “really I might have to get your badge number,” she joked even as she ran her foot along the back of his calf.

He broke away keeping a hand on her hip while he hailed a cab. “Get in the car Stark,” he shook his head, brushing a quick kiss against her temple. She slid in first and Jon climbed in after. 

Jon said something to the driver, Sansa couldn’t be sure what it was; instead she found herself distracted by the way his lips moved to form the words. He caught her staring, but instead of shying away her smile grew wider. “What?” he asked.

"I just like you,” She pressed her face into his shoulder. “A lot.”

“You’re feeling chatty.” She hummed in agreement, grabbing his hand in hers and twisting and knotting their fingers until she was content. 

“Your hands were cold, I want to warm them up.” She slid the other one to her hip, hardly shivering when she drew his hand to the bare skin. 

“Watch yourself Stark.” He murmured into her ear, eyes glancing at the driver in the rearview. 

“I have to keep myself entertained, you’re being dull.” He pinched her waist at that and she laughed

“That’s twenty-five.” The driver’s voice made her jump, and come to her senses. She was in the back seat of a cab trying to get her boyfriend’s hand up her shirt. Taking a breath she tried to settle down while Jon paid and found his apartment keys. The energy from the car had fizzled, the desire was unsettled, replaced with the sobering feeling of a night ending. His hand went to the small of her back while they walked up the three flights of stairs. 

She sat at the hightop while he filled two glasses with faucet water, gulping one down easily and handing the other to her. “C’mon, you look like you’re going to fall asleep sitting up.”

“No, not yet.” She stood up, straightening her back and shooting him a sleepy smile. “We’ve still got to test those handcuffs.”


	40. hay ride

When did family things get so complicated? Sansa wondered as everyone clambered out of the two cars. That was actually probably where it started, Jon had been coming to family events since they were kids; they started taking two cars because of it. Her parents never batted an eye, of course they wouldn’t. Now they were divided into three cars, everyone always brought someone with them, or Sansa figured she would just sit beside Margaery on the hayride since she was riding in with Robb, Marg, and Jon. Bran was bringing two of his friends, then there was Rickon who would undoubtedly sit with one of them. Mama, dad, and Arya and her boyfriend. 

Really she should have realized she would be sitting with Jon. Margaery kept shooting her brother looks, fluttering her eyelashes coyly. “You don’t mind do you?” 

"Of course not, Sansa smiled, she didn’t mind at all. Jon probably did. He was weird all summer, and since she’d come back for fall break it became clear that weird was the new normal. Robb laughed at her when she asked him about it. Arya rolled her eyes, “I thought you were smarter than that.” They always seemed to be thrown into the same rooms, situations, even cars more often than not; and Jon could not be more awkward about it.

The hay bales looked smaller than they did in years past, probably because last year she had in fact shared a seat with Margaery, two by two the Starks situated themselves on the trailer. Sansa unfurled a blanket and laid it across the one she’d be sharing. Jon waited until she was ready and tried to sit as far from her as possible. When she looked over he was smiling “I forgot you do that.” 

“Just because we’re sitting on hay doesn’t mean I want to be poked by it,” She moved to the edge of the bale so he had room beside her. The tractor started, tugging the trailer along. Every once in a while someone would turn back to look at her, or at Jon. When did everyone in her family get so weird. Strangely Jon was acting the most normal. After a long string of bad boyfriends, and even worse break-ups Jon was the only person she could stand to be around. Sometimes silence felt like it was smothering, sitting with Jon felt like the only time she could breathe back then. She forgot about that. 

Remembering that made her turn and smile fondly at him, Jon was briefly taken aback, startled almost but he returned her smile with one of his own. Sansa tipped her head back to look at the sky, only to be drawn out by the sound of Rickon snickering. Then Robb laughed as well, soon everyone, even mama, and Gendry were laughing at some sort of mystery.

Jon was going red under his beard, it was endearing, but confusing. Mostly confusing, “what’s going on?” She leaned close to him.

“They’re just being stupid.” He shrugged. 

The trailer dipped and swayed on the grassy path. She rocked with it, reaching out for balance. Jon held on to her forearm, so she didn’t fall over the edge. Sansa wasn’t the only one who fell victim to the unsteady ride; mama was gripping dad’s arm and laughing. Dad was looking at her like she hung the moon herself. Arya was turned to look at Jon, when she noticed Sansa noticing she turned around quick. Seconds later Gendry turned, “What?” Sansa asked not unkindly and he twisted back to the front only for Arya to knock him in the ribs for getting caught. 

“Why does everyone keep looking back here?” She looked at Jon who had his face buried in his hands. “Jon what’s going on?” She could feel her phone vibrate in her purse, pulling it out she saw it was from Bran. 

He likes you

Oh. Oh. That explained a lot. Like everything. It was nice to know, that the reason he was acting oddly wasn’t because he hated her, or realized she was a waste of time. This was much better, Jon was the kind of guy who would look at her like she put the stars in the sky, and make sure she was happy even when she was old. It wasn’t a possibility she considered before, but now that it was in her head she wasn’t ready to let it go. So she coaxed his hand from the side of his face where he was scrubbing at his beard. “We can pretend they aren’t here.” She said resting their joined hands on their thighs, “just you and me,”

“Just you and me,” Jon agreed, and she wondered how she never saw it before.


	41. pumpkin patch (robb x margaery)

“Robb!” Margaery called from across the patch, “I found it!” The perfect pumpkin. She’d been delighted when the time had come to decorate their new home, and it was the first weekend they had together where all they had to do was focus on the house. And her boyfriend, she definitely wanted to focus on Robb.

He was walking towards her with two steaming disposable cups. They were a well suited couple, everyone said so, but more than that she felt it. He handed her one cup, keeping the other for himself. She could see the label was obscured by the cup, but she knew he kept the sweeter, more syrupy one for himself. 

“I thought you wanted eight of these.” Robb said hefting the pumpkin under his arm and into the wagon she brought with her.

“It’s going to be a long day,” she laughed pressing on. “Why don’t we make a game of it then?”

“You have my attention.” Robb smiled.

“Whoever finds the most gets a prize from the loser.” She shrugged, “and I always have your attention.” She bumped her hip with his. “We stick together too, just to keep things interesting. Deal?”

She knew she was fortunate to find someone so spirited, someone so well suited for her. Robb might not actually care about the pumpkins, but he cared about her, so he did his best to find them alongside her. Succeeding in finding numbers five, and three with glee.

He was a showboater, she didn’t want to point out that she found more than he did, they’d find the last two and she’d claim her prize then. “I was thinking we should have Thanksgiving at our house this year.” She said, swinging their hands with the empty cups rattling in the wagon. “Get both of our families together, take some of the pressure off you mom.”

“She’d probably appreciate that.” 

“Sansa could meet my brother.” Margaery suggested with a smile, “he would be good for her.” Robb hesitated, “what? Willas is a good guy.”

“I think she actually has someone else in mind. But I don’t want to talk about my sister right now.” He hooked his arm around her waist. “Let’s find these pumpkins and get you home.” Robb was the only man she knew who could wink devilishly, not like a sleaze. He was a good match for her because she knew exactly what he was implying. 

“There!” She shouted, pointing. “The last one!” Margaery wrapped her arms around the prtfectly round pumpkin and carried it to the wagon. “I’m ready to claim my prize now.” She smirked fisting his sweater in her hand. She tugged him down to her mouth and he responded eagerly.

“That’s all you wanted?” He asked.

“What, like you don’t know you’re a fantastic kisser?” She teased watching him grin proudly, “we’re taking a bath when we get home too, that’s my real prize.” 

“I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you.” He sighed, and she felt shy at the way he stared at her. 

“I hope that wasn’t a proposal,” Margaery laughed, tugging the pumpkin wagon behind her.

“It wasn’t,” Robb’s arm fall across her shoulders, “when I propose you’ll know.”


	42. Zombies! 1

“Jon?” The walkie-talkie on his belt clicked off before static again “Jon can you hear me?” His shaking hands reached to unclip it, “Jon we need help.”

 

“Sansa, where are you?” the blood on his hands made his grip slick, “are you still at camp?” To his left Theon wiped one of his arrows on his thigh. Jon jerked his head, he couldn’t wait for Sansa to answer. 

“Jon they found us.” He could hear her voice shake. “We’re holding them off- Arya, Satin, and Sam they’re trying but there’s so many.” They weren’t even trying to be quiet with their strides anymore. The noise would draw Others, but Jon hoped, maybe they would be drawn from camp. 

The sound of gunshots grew clearer the closer they got, his hand clenched around the machete at his hip, at his flank he could hear Grenn cocking his shotgun. There was no way he missed the panic in Sansa’s voice. 

“I knew we shouldn’t have left them alone.” He said, Jon could feel his head shake. And damned if Grenn had’t tried to stay behind at camp to keep watch. It was because he insisted on staying that Jon had him out on foot. It was his fault really, Grenn was Sansa’s unofficial standing guard at camp, where she went he ended up following. Jon couldn’t do it himself, not that he hadn’t tried, but that went to shit pretty quick.

“Nothing we could do to prevent this.” Jon said more to himself. Shot shot shot shot, like rapid fire. Then he saw them, Arya was giving the commands while Sam shot out his arrows. Grenn found them first. Sansa holding Rickon against her chest, keeping him from seeing the worst of it. She shook but kept her lips pursed, kept quiet. 

The Others kept coming, bang Grenn shot putting himself between his family and the walkers. They had to clear out the Others and get the hell out of camp. Not for the first time he wished they hadn’t picked him to lead. Pyp reloaded his crossbow, while Theon yanked his axe out of a zombie’s skull. It felt like they went on for hours, aim, kill, repeat, then there was silence. 

Sam collapsed first, trembling with adrenaline; Jon would have liked to do the same but instead he started dragging bodies. “Is everyone ok?” Over the harsh sawing of breath he could hear a few responses. Rickon was the first to his feet, moving from Sansa’s lap to stoke the fire so they could burn the bodies. Satin was next, dragging corpses by their feet and into the flames. 

He tried not to look on with envy as Grenn smoothed Sansa’s hair while she finally started to weep, big choking sobs. “Hey, we’re gonna be ok.” Arya said at his side retrieving arrows before they were tossed in the fire. 

“You did good,” he told her, meaning it. He reached out to ruffle her hair, only to think better of it, it was hard to say when she’d be able to wash the blood away. “Really, if it weren’t for you taking control we probably wouldn’t be standing with our group in tact.”

“Yeah probably,” she shrugged. “But,” Arya added, “it was good that you guys got here when you did.”

They went about their work in silence until the site was clear and packed away. Sam took the driver’s seat of the RV, Rickon had a map sitting shotgun. It wasn’t until they started on the road that Sansa sought him out. He hadn’t been so close to her since that first week, didn’t think she ever wanted to be so close to him. Yet there she stood in the cradle of his thighs running her thumbs across either side of his jaw. “Are you ok?” He asked, closing his eyes as she moved from his jaw to his cheekbones.

“I should be asking you the same thing. You’re the one who’s always fighting, taking care of everyone else.” He held her hips while she continued to map across his face. “My brave Jon. Ser Jon, do you remember?”

“It wasn’t a title I wore often.” He teased. Her breath was ghosting against his forehead, so close. He hadn’t been so close to her in weeks, maybe months. Time didn’t mean a damn thing anymore. Her lips brushed his temple, then his cheek. It was the way she said his name, at the corner of his mouth that snapped him out of it. Flashes of that night, her skin and how it looked against his. How it probably looked against someone else’s now.

He nudged her away gently, but maybe it was the way his body tensed that snapped her out of it. ”Sorry I… I should go put Rickon to bed.”

“It’s fine, don’t- don’t apologize.” He wished he could go back to moments before. To the comfort, the ease but it passed. She the RV didn’t allow much distance but when she moved from the kitchenette table to the steps she hesitated before turning again.

“Thank you for coming,” tucked her hair behind her ear, “really we’re lucky to have you around.” But the burden of duty never felt so heavy as that moment.


	43. fake boyfriend

The redhead standing at the bar was so clearly uncomfortable under the eye of the man talking at her. She didn’t look pleadingly around the bar, and Jon was convinced he knew her though he was unsure from where; those were the things that kept him in his seat. Maybe the man was her date, maybe the date was going poorly; the group he was with had already started taking bets. It wasn’t unheard of for Jon to rise from his spot and dissuade a man in his advances. He sat still for as long as he could, joining in the conversation, on occasion raising his eyes to look at the bar. She looked to the door four times before he could stop himself, behind him Pyp shouted ‘pay up’ but he was used to that.

He put his hand on the center of her back, “everything ok?” He only addressed her, and felt his smile mirror her own when she looked at him.

“Jon,” she said brightly. “I didn’t see you, did you guys just get here?” Her eyes, very blue eyes, lifted to his urging him to play along.

“You must have missed us, we’re over there.” He turned and gestured to the table where the group waved.

“I thought you were lying,” the guy mumbled bitterly at Jon’s back.

“Wouldn’t that mean she isn’t interested anyway,” and the redhead bit back a smile. Jon heard the stool scrape against the floor and the seat was vacant.

“You do this often then?” She asked shifting to face him. “Jon Snow, knight in shining armor,” she laughed lightly, resting her chin in her palm, elbow on the bar. He knew her then, or at least she knew him, embarrassed he heard the words tumble from his mouth with little grace,

“Do I know you, really?” He thought she looked familiar, but she knew him by name. His face felt hot.

“You probably don’t recognize me, you coach my little brother’s soccer team.” She combed a hand through her hair, suddenly embarrassed as well. “Sorry, I didn’t even think, I’m Sansa,”

“Sansa,” he repeated, and she smiled gently still shy like she realized in reality they really were strangers. “Listen, if you want, and it’s only if you want, my friends are set up at that table back there. If you want to wait for whoever with us you can.” She hesitated, looking back at the group; he turned too watching Pyp perk up and smile.

“It’s really nice of you to offer,” she turned back, running her finger around the rim of the glass before her. “But I’m starting to think my group stood me up.” He didn’t like to see her frown, of that he was sure.

“One more drink, wait it out with us, and if they don’t show up at least you won’t have any creeps around.”

She finished the rest of her drink. “One more,” she agreed. The bartender took her drink order, and she insisted on getting Jon’s as well, “as thanks, please take it.” She pushed it toward him and he accepted before he brought her back to the table.

Stark, that was her last named immediately he wondered how he didn’t realize that. Probably because he coached third-graders; knowing the relation he could see the resemblance, but the features on Sansa seemed rightfully different. She was supposed to meet some of her coworkers, all of them had time management problems. Jon was happy to sit back and let others take the lead on the conversation and observe.

She leaned across the table to hear Sam’s opinion, which strangers rarely did. Satin, Grenn, and Pyp took turns trying to make her blush with good-natured flirting. Gilly asked about her job, that’s how Jon found out she was in publishing, even Val took to her; Val who prickled at newcomers. It was a twist of fate that he met her on this night, he’d only played the fake boyfriend twice before; women were more than capable of getting men to back off, but some guys couldn’t take a hint. He didn’t want her to feel like she owed him the attention after that, and he hoped she didn’t. Maybe that’s why he was keeping quiet.

“Sansa!” A brunette cried wandering over to the table, “how long have you been here?”

“Oh,” she started turning to face the girl behind her, “not long.”

“Good, sorry we’re a little late darling.” She kissed Sansa on the cheek, “c’mon we have a table over there.” She pointed across the bar and Sansa frowned.

“Right, I’ll be right there.” the girl walked away and Sansa smiled apologetically, not at anyone in particular. She grabbed her glass and coat, “thank you, all of you for letting me wait around with you.” She turned like she might say something to him, then reconsidered. It wasn’t until she was across the bar that Val looked at him.

“Are you kidding me?”

“What?” He asked, it was a typical question from Val.

“She’s into you,”

“No, she’s not,” he felt himself going red.

“You didn’t notice?” he shook his head.

“She couldn’t take her eyes off you,” Gilly said. “You should go after her,” she pressed. That cued encouragement from all around until finally he stood to make his way over to where she sat.

Halfway to the table he reconsidered, he was no better than the guy trying to pick her up. He wanted to walk back to his table, endure the teasing he knew he would hear, only to hear, “Jon?”

Her blue eyes locked on him questioningly, “hey.”

“What are you doing?” and suddenly the words were spilling from his lips.

“I came over to ask you out.” She hummed with interest,

“But you were walking away, did you change your mind?” There was a waver in her voice, surely he didn’t make her nervous. God what if he did?”

“I didn’t want to bother you,” he heard himself mumble. “I didn’t want-don’t want to be that guy,”

“And if I told you I wasn’t bothered?” He felt her move closer to him. “Would you ask me then?”

“Would you say yes?”

“I think I would.”


	44. nanny parent i

Lya loved her nanny; Jon owed Robb for recommending his sister Sansa. She showed up every morning and got his daughter ready for school while he dressed for work so he could spend breakfast with Lya before they parted for the day. She’d been coming round since Lya was three and now four years later Jon had grown so accustomed to her presence day-in and day-out that when she asked if he would be home early on Friday, he blurted out “why?”  
Sansa flushed, “I have a date,” and she sounded so guilty confessing it that it seemed normal for jealousy to turn his insides. It wasn’t fair of him to expect she would be around forever, she didn’t owe them anything, it shouldn’t feel this way, but it did.   
“I’ll let my boss know,” and he hoped he sounded happy for her.


	45. nanny parent ii

It had been a week since the Friday that changed everything. Jon had to wait another two days to see Sansa, and it felt selfish to acknowledge that he hoped her date had not gone well.   
She gave nothing away when she let herself in, and if he didn’t know better he might have thought he imagined her date entirely. She followed Lya down the steps and set oatmeal thinned out by milk before his daughter. They chatted easily, and Jon wished he could think of anything to say.   
“Daddy and I went to see a movie yesterday!” Lya said once her bowl was empty.   
“You did?” Sansa’s eyes widened in excitement, giving his daughter the reaction she was looking for. She followed Lya’s beaming eyes to Jon, and he shifted in his chair from the attention. Lya nodded.  
“Well it sounds like your weekend was better than mine,” Sansa poked the dimple in her cheek. “Now, go brush your teeth,” and Lya took off up the steps.  
“So it didn’t go well?” Jon felt himself ask before he could stop himself.   
“Do you ever do things because people want you to?” She asked, “or because you stop thinking something’s true?” Jon nodded. “It wasn’t that it didn’t go well, it just isn’t what I want.” She lifted her eyes to his, “I’ve decided to wait for what I want.”


	46. avid reader/librarian

He was back again, the man with the glasses. He disappeared into the shelves and reappear moments later to take his usual seat. He never read the same thing twice in the library. Every other day he appeared, returning one book to circulation, finding another, sitting, and reading until the end of her shift.   
His moved easily, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose with a knuckle. He didn’t lick a finger to turn a page, Sansa hated watching people do that in the library. She liked the days he came in, it broke up the monotony of the desk she sat behind. Jon didn’t look at her, she knew his name because she always checked his books back in. Jon Snow. She knew his face well too.   
Today was different, he came up to her desk. “Excuse me?” he had a voice that would make his chest rumble under her ear. She looked up, and watched him startle under her stare. “I’m looking for a book.”  
She clicked the icon on her desktop, “what’s it called?”  
“I guess I’m asking for a recommendation really.” He stood upright, not leaning against the desk flirtatiously. His question was genuine.   
Sansa stood, “what do you like?”  
“Anything, everything,” he answered. “What’s your favorite?”  
They ended up walking through the classics, her pointing out her favorites, him giving a well thought critique about each. “You might have read the whole library.” she laughed. He blushed,   
“how else could I talk to you?”


	47. writer/editor

He’d been waiting for this day for a long time. Well not too long really, but long enough that anticipation built in his stomach, and grew to his throat when he walked through her office door. Sansa smiled when she saw him, standing, and offering him a seat.   
“You’ve been quiet the last couple weeks, I thought you might be avoiding me.”  
“Just-” he cleared his throat, “just trying to finish up.” He said pulling a flash drive from his bag along with a hard copy of his manuscript. She beamed at him.  
“I can’t wait to read it.” She stretched out her hands to take them from him, he hoped his sweaty palms hadn’t left noticeable imprints on the paper she took from him. She never looked through it with him there, but his heart picked up when she started to leaf through the pages.   
He wanted to start to talk, babble about anything really, but it wasn’t in his nature, and he couldn’t seem to force a word out of his mouth as she turned the pages. He thought of the note, that bold little note he’d written and stuck in the middle of the pages. She noticed it too as she turned the pages, bright with dark ink, it was impossible to miss.  
“What’s this?” Her voice a pleasant hum.  
“I should go,” Jon stood abruptly, the chair dragged on the floor behind him. Sansa looked at him curiously then, stopping her actions and setting the thick stack of paper before her.   
“Stay, sorry,” she gestured to the chair again. “I’m just excited.”   
He stayed for a while longer, and though his heart didn’t slow he fell into an easy conversation with Sansa Stark.   
It wasn’t until that night, when he sat on his back porch watching Ghost run across the yard that his phone sounded, and staring back at him was one word.  
yes


	48. nanny parent iii

Lya had gotten into a fight, that was all the text from Sansa said. He took a cab to the school she went to, finding Sansa sitting with Lya. He’d never seen Sansa so cross, he’d seen the very same look on Catelyn Stark’s face what seemed like a lifetime ago.  
“What happened?” he asked sitting on Lya’s other side. She was glowering, and he’d never noticed just how much of him lived within his child.   
“She won’t say,” Sansa huffed. Lya stared ahead with narrowed eyes.   
“Mr. Snow, glad you could join us.” They were ushered into the principal’s office, he eyed Sansa curiously, “I wasn’t aware you were joining us Mrs. Snow.”  
Her head snapped up, “no I’m not-”  
“She’s Lya’s nanny, she should be here too.” Jon said quickly, and like that they each took a seat on either side of his sullen daughter.   
“Lyanna pushed one of her classmates on the ground today.” Sansa cast Jon a glance over Lya’s head, that didn’t sound like her.   
“She was making fun of me,” Lya said frowning. “I told her to leave me alone.”  
Jon turned to her; she was usually even tempered, what could that girl have said to her? “Lya?”  
“She made fun of me when I said Sansa was my mom,” she looked at him with furious tears.   
“Unfortunately we have a zero tolerance policy-”  
“But it’s fine if someone picks on her?” Sansa snapped. Neither Jon nor his daughter had ever heard such a tone escape her; it wasn’t the time to notice how beautiful she looked, fearsome really. A she-wolf and her young.   
“Unfortunately-” the man began, not realizing he didn’t stand a chance.   
“You listen to me,” Sansa was seething, “words are just as powerful as fists, there’s plenty of research to back that. If you can’t prevent children from speaking poorly to one another perhaps we’ll be finding another school to send our girl to.”   
The man sputtered, looking to Jon to see if she had the power to make such claims. Jon nodded, taking her side immediately. Hoping he could find a school that would take Lya in so late in the year. Sansa stood, taking Lya’s hand in hers, leaving Jon to deal with the repercussions.   
He found them in the hall, his daughter crying into Sansa’s shoulder where she was being held tight. “You are though, in all the ways that count.” Sansa’s eyes met Jon’s and he wrapped his arms around both of them. In all the ways that count.


	49. sweet domesticity

“I’m pretty sure the roof just collapsed.”  
“Hmph,” was the only response Sansa received. Jon rolled over and she felt her frown soften at the sight of him. In sleep the corners of his mouth turned up, the crash happened again.  
“Jon did you hear me?” Slowly his eyes blinked open, she wondered if he always looked at her like that when he saw her. Grey eyes alert, interested, and warm he groaned, bumping her when he stretched his limbs.  
“What’s wrong?” he mumbled, voice thick with sleep. She pulled the blankets to her chin, there was a thud down the hall. “What time is it?” He turned his head to look at the clock, “how long have they been at it?”  
“I think they woke with the sun.” Sansa hummed, “and you need to tell them to go back to bed.”  
“Me?” He was awake at that, “you’re their mother.”  
“And you’re the one who built this house, if they really did bring it down with their playing you could rebuild it.” He sighed and she knew she had him. He kicked his legs over the bed, she felt the mattress move. In his absence she drifted back to sleep, only to wake to two tiny bodies crawling into the bed, Rickard was tugging at the quilt trying to cuddle into the front of her, and Bran’s head joined hers on the pillow.  
Jon’s arm spread over the three of them, her ear tickled when Bran said “I love you mama,” as he fell to sleep. She ran her hand along Rickard’s dark hair, and Jon said,  
“They wouldn’t fall asleep unless they were in here with us,” but she knew he had a soft spot when the boys pleaded with their bright blue eyes. She couldn’t find it in herself to be cross, it was everything she’d ever wanted and she said so.  
“Me too,” Jon said. She would endure the warmth of being squished into such a small space a thousand times over; she had a family of her own.


	50. as good as lemoncakes

Sansa remembered going to weddings as a girl, the soft chiming of the crystal prompting couples to kiss was her favorite part. It was so romantic, everyone always looked so in love. Weddings made everyone seem more beautiful, and made everyone remember why they fell in love in the first place.  
Jon took her hand in his, she never saw him smile as much as he did that day. She felt his eyes on her since he turned to see her in the chapel. Mama always told her to watch the groom at weddings, but Sansa had never bothered. The bride’s dress was always something to be admired when she first appeared. Jon looked at her like she was remarkable, and beautiful, and capable of anything. But then, he looked at her like that all the time.  
He was usually more reserved, but the guests hardly had to tap their silverware against the champagne flutes. Jon leaned over to kiss her between courses, blushing, but she was delighted. She felt adored, she felt safe; let everyone here know they would be happy forever. Sansa had the final say in nearly everything to do with this day, Jon deferred to her because he knew she’d dreamed of her wedding day since she was a little girl; he married her at least twice before this day, in the woods behind her house with rings made of twine and a dress that was far too big over her play clothes.  
Sansa insisted he have a choice in the cake, yellow, and the song they danced to. His hand fit into the small of her back when they danced, while hers twisted the hair at the nape of his neck. “Are you having a nice time?” He asked as they swayed to an old, acoustic song.  
“The best, indescribable Jon.” She insisted, he twirled her and she laughed. Phones flashed taking pictures as she beamed. “I can’t imagine this night could get any better.”  
“That good?” He pulled her close again, she tucked her face into his neck. “What if I told you there was a surprise?”  
“It couldn’t get better,” she shook her head. “It’s perfect.”  
Still, Sansa wondered what he meant and when they rolled the cake out she was still curious. He didn’t smash the cake into her face, though she knew Robb promised him fifty bucks if he would, and after she felt the brush of his lips on her fingers when he ate his own piece he grabbed her wrist, and kissed her palm. He stopped her from taking a piece of the cake though and she frowned.  
“There’s a better one for you,” he insisted, guiding her, with his own cake in hand back to the table. At her place was a small cake that shimmered like her dress, frosted to perfection, and when she cut into it she realized the night had gotten better indeed. It was a lemoncake.


	51. superheroes

Despite the dark wig, and the mask Jon Snow could spot Sansa Stark from a million miles away. She wasn’t as gifted with weapons, not like Arya who fought alongside her, but she was a quick study. He knew about Arya’s nightlife activities, it was how he found himself masked and in all black on the wrong side of town; never in his wildest dreams had he imagined Sansa would be with her.  
They mistook him for an enemy at first, Arya swung the staff in her hand, knocking him in the temple hard. When he tottered to his feet she took another swing before he said, “It’s me!”  
She didn’t drop her guard, and Sansa darted to help him up. The sisters were a good team, in the past the Starks kept the North from corruption when they held the seat at Winterfell. Over the last five years the family had fallen apart, starting with Ned’s death. Sansa had been there, Jon recalled.  
The Boltons had moved in immediately once the Lannisters took charge. The North crumbled under their rule, the sisters were in hiding but made their way out to protect those who couldn’t protect themselves. To keep the Boltons, and their men at bay.  
It was as though they know what the other was about to do. Sansa would block when Arya hit; Sansa pulled the staff from its spot on Arya to take a swing instead of throwing her fists. They hardly swayed when the fighting was done, and Jon despite all of his training he felt himself huff and puff.  
Their apartment was two bedrooms, there were no pictures on the walls. Sansa pulled off her wig the second the door was bolted, she set it on the little breakfast bar and made for the bathroom.  
“Why’d you come out tonight Jon?” Arya asked, tossing him a bottle of water from the fridge.  
“I thought you would need help.” He said collapsing into a chair, “but it seems like you have it handled.” Sansa emerged from the hall, she changed her clothes and carried a little kit with her.  
“It’s nice to have help,” she chirped pulling a cream from the pouch and handing it to Arya. “For your wrist.” She said firmly before turning on Jon. “She hit you pretty hard, huh?”  
“He’s the one who taught me to swing a bat.” Arya said helpfully squirting the cream into her palm. “It’s a testament to you as a teacher,” she joked. He wondered if they were always like this after a fight, so chipper.  
“We’re together,” Sansa said, wiping a swab over the cut on his cheek. It was like she read his thoughts. “We have each other, we’re doing what father would have wanted.”  
“I want to help.”  
“Of course you do,” Arya said plainly. “We let you tonight didn’t we?” She tossed the empty tube in the trash. “We’re going out again tomorrow.”  
“You could stay here if you want,” Sansa said moving away to observe her work.  
“I thought that went without saying,” Arya said, and Jon realized just how much the two of them had changed since they’d all been separated.  
“I’ll pack my bags,” he answered. He wouldn’t turn down the offer to finish Ned Stark’s work.


	52. nanny parent iv

Summer came quickly, the air was hot and heavy. It wasn’t rare for Jon to come home and find his girls in the backyard, slathered in sunscreen with their toes dipped into the kiddie-pool. Lya read out loud in the cramped back yard, asking for definitions or pronunciations. On those evenings Jon would change hurriedly into gym shorts and a t-shirt to join them. Today he found them on the floor surrounded by oscillating fans, cheeks pink from the sun, eating ice cubes.  
Lya hopped up to greet him, her skin was warm, shoulders red with sunburn. “Sansa says it’s cooler on the floor,” Lya said like Sansa had all the right answers. Ever since Sansa had come into their home many conversations started with the phrase “Sansa says.”  
The redhead peeled herself off the floor, freckles had blossomed across the bridge of her nose. She kissed his cheek, and up close he noticed the sunburn on her as well. “It was a rough morning, we’re trying to stay in for the rest of the day.” Was all she said about it. “Once the sun sets though Lya wants to water the garden.”  
They moved the fans into the kitchen when they ate. “Do you have to go to work next week dad?” Lya asked over the bowl of salad.  
“Generally I do,” Jon answered.  
“Well, would it be ok for me and Sansa to go to Winterfell then?” she asked casting a glance to Sansa. “Her mom said we can, and they have a pool there, and shady trees. We can walk to a lake too!” She pleaded before he could even answer.  
“You’d be invited too,” Sansa said, “you’ve always been welcome at Winterfell.”  
“I could talk to my boss,” Jon said slowly but Lya leaped from her seat.  
“It’ll be a family trip!” She cried excitedly, dinner forgotten she raced up the stairs to pack her bag.  
“That was hardly a yes,” Jon laughed.  
“It was enough.” Sansa said leaning into him briefly. “She’s always excited to spend time with you.”  
“With both of us together I think, we’re her family after all.” He said assuredly.  
“We are, aren’t we?”


	53. dancing with myself

Sansa hummed along, it seemed like all stores played the same music. She heard the thud of a stock box being set down. She had to peer through the space her book left to see him, not that she did such a thing often. It just so happened that the nights she came to the bookstore he was working.  
He was a little goofy to look at, like he was trying hard to hide how handsome he was. His hair was long, and hid most of his face. Probably Robb’s age, sometimes he pushed his glasses up with his thumb, but only when they were dangerously close to sliding off the bridge of his nose. Perhaps she watched him more than she cared to admit.  
She wandered to a chair, tucking her legs under her, and started her book. Within a few chapters she got up to stretch her legs only to see him, the boy dancing along to the terrible music. It wasn’t even really dancing, more like a head bob, shoulder shift dance that somehow every boy knew.  
He caught her looking and she felt mortified. Quickly she collected her things, making to leave as soon as she could. As it were the gods must have sensed her haste because the strap of her bag broke casting all of her belongings to the floor. Red faced she started to collect her possessions, as she scooped her loose change into her hand he joined her.  
“Thanks,” she said softly, glancing up and offering a smile.  
“’s no big deal,” he answered rising when she did. “That’s pretty good,” he said while she adjusted her bag.  
“What is?”  
“What you’re reading,” He said not unkindly. Then there was silence between them, but it seemed he had no intention of moving. “I finished it last week,” he added.  
“It must be easy to read so much when you work here.” Sansa said, “sometimes I bring my little brother.”

“I know,” then he blushed. “You’re kind of hard to miss.”  
Had he been noticing her for just as long? She knew a compliment when she heard one, even one poorly delivered. “Thanks, I’m Sansa.” She turned the book into her chest, and offered her hand to him.  
“Jon Snow,”  
“Jon,” she tested his name on her tongue. His hand was warm in hers, if not a little clammy. It endeared her. “Do you want to talk some more when you’re off?”  
“Really?”  
“Yeah, maybe you can teach me some of your moves.”


	54. reincarnation

They say the faces you see in your dreams are faces you’ve seen before. Sansa dreamt of this man, saw his face at the front of her mind so often, wracked her brain to place him, and here he stood. Her heartbeat was in her ears, and the rustling of the crowd when she came to her senses she could hardly hear his soft voice.   
“Sorry,” she said, forcing herself to meet his eyes, “who is this for?”  
“My friend over there, he was too shy to wait himself,” he gestured to an eager eyed man, “he’s Sam,” he said realizing she meant to write inside the book. Smiling she lifted her hand in a wave.  
“You’ll have to let him know I’m not all that scary,” she winked pressing the marker to the paper, what am I doing? A smile lit his face and suddenly her little risk was rewarded. Too soon he was shuffled away,  
“Jon,” he said before he lost his spot. “You didn’t ask, but I’m Jon.” And finally she knew the name that went with the face.


	55. the worst day

It wasn’t like her day could get any worse. She woke up late and had to skip her shower to make it to the coffee shop before class, and the dorms were just so hot she felt stale in her skin. To make matters worse she was hardly two feet from the cafe when the lid popped off and spilled all over her feet, leaving her sandals wet and legs sticky. Murphy’s Law and all that she should have realized it could still get worse.  
She squished down the hall, fortunately still early when she sat down in the perfect seat. It was nearly fifteen minutes before a group of upper class men joined her, pulling out their calculus books. She was in the wrong hall. It was all she could do to shove her things back into her bag and escape before she burst into tears.   
“Sansa?” Jon steadies her with a hand around her arm, shrugging into his shoulder to knock his earbuds out.   
“I got lost,” he nodded knowingly, coaxing her out of the foot traffic and toward a study table.   
“Is that all?” Jon’s voice was steady and patient, and reminded her so much of home that she felt the stress of the last two hours, petty as the stressors were, spilling from her lips.  
“My roommate was out all night, and I woke up late, nothing’s going right today at all,” she sighed focusing on his steady gaze. “I wish I was home,” it sounded pathetic, and petty but Jon didn’t seem to mind. He waited until the tears dried in her eyes before coaxing her up.   
“We’ll skip your first one, time’s already past right?” She nodded, “first we’ll get you some coffee, first day you should always have some.”  
“I did, and it spilled everywhere.” She shook her head following his lead. He shook his head,  
“Definitely a rough start,” he mustered up a half smile for her and offered his arm gallantly. “No campus coffee then,” and just like that things got brighter.


	56. passed out with jurassic park

Sansa tossed her keys onto the table beside the door, toeing off her shoes as she went. “Jon?” The apartment stayed quiet. Maybe he’d gone out for a drink with the guys.  
As she walked down the little hall, unpinning her hair she could hear a familiar song. Poking her head through the archway into the living room she realized why she recognized the song, the theme from a movie Jon and Robb watched all the time growing up. The TV cast a blue-ish glow on her sleeping boyfriend, and his laptop had either died or gone into sleep-mode.   
Crouching down she smoothed a hand along his shoulder. He was wearing his oldest t-shirt, the one she begged him to throw away, and briefs. “Jon?” she cooed again, “love,” he stirred, eyes blinking open slowly.   
“Hi,” he croaked with a sleepy smile. “When did you get home?”  
“Not long ago,” she shut the screen of his laptop. “What were you doing?” She curled against him.   
“Robb and I were trying to watch them together,” he stretched his arm to get the remote, turning the volume down low. “We’re a couple of old men it seems since we could hardly get through it.” She smiled at that, “we knew we couldn’t get together before the premiere, with the kids and the station.”  
“It’s amazing the things you can do with technology,” she teased kissing his wrist. “Work took a lot out of you. I’m sure he understands.”  
“I think he’s a little jealous too,” Jon said conspiratorially into her hair.  
“What of?”  
“That I get to spend all my free time with his sister if I want,” he was dozing again, “that we get to hang out together and his life is boring and domestic.”   
She laughed at that, “we’re the sexiest of roommates, spooning on the couch at nine thirty in the evening. Quite domestic if you think about it.”  
“I never said it was a bad thing.” He said through a yawn, “could do this for the rest of my life if you wanted.”


	57. brother's best friend i

She straightened her back, walking into the office with a measured step. There was only so much time before Robb’s meeting would end and her time would be up. She could see the back of Jon’s head and gripped the brown bag tighter before gripping it with the other two.  
“Hey Jon,” with her free hand she cupped his elbow, he looked up at her and grinned broadly.  
“Hi Sansa,” pushing away from his desk he gave her his full attention, “did Robb not tell you he had a meeting today?”  
“I figured he might get out early, never hurts.” She pulled one of the bags from her hand, “I had some extra time and made something for you,”  
He rolled the bag open and she waited for his reaction. She’d been coming by the office often, mostly to see her brother, but it had turned into something else over time. Jon, Robb’s sweet friend, his best friend, might have had a hand in that.  
Robb would absolutely kill her if he realized what she was about. This wasn’t like the other times, where his friends would flirt with her and take her out only to never call again. Jon looked at her like she hung the moon, and no matter how many other boys looked at her like that, they never took the time to know her.  
Jon was eager to know everything about her, nearly as eager as she was to know everything about him. “Ham and cheese, you remembered?”  
“No mayo either,” she pointed out with pride.   
“Thank you,” he said earnestly before falling into an easy conversation with her resting his head in his hand to look up at her while she propped herself on his desk. She never got bored talking to Jon, and maybe that was because he said as much in his silence.  
“I’m not keeping from anything important am I?”  
“Nah, I can stay a little late tonight to finish it,” he said making her smile.   
“Sansa?” Robb sounded surprised to find her at the office. More surprised to find her practically sitting on Jon’s desk, chatting with a friendly smile.   
“Oh, hey!” She eased off of Jon’s desk and brushed a kiss against her brother’s cheek. “I’m surprising you for lunch,” she held up the two brown bags with a grin. “Surprise.”   
“Let me throw my jacket on my chair, we’ll eat outside.” He said, casting her a suspicious look. And like that their moment ended, because for all the things she liked about Jon, she liked his loyalty to Robb above all else most.


	58. brother's best friend ii

It would be a lie to say he hadn’t noticed the way she inched closer to him. The bar was crowded, and the closeness was more to stay away from awkward strangers, at least that’s what Jon was telling himself. He couldn’t read any more into it, because it was Sansa, Robb’s sister who brought him lunch sometimes, who was sharp as a tack; she asked him questions, wanted to know him. He wanted to know her too, but he wouldn’t, no he couldn’t risk his friendship with Robb.  
It was a decision he was fine with, or that he’d come to terms with at least.   
“Do you wanna dance?” Her breath was a warm puff on his neck; he imagined she tasted like amaretto sours, tart and sweet.   
“Nah,” he shook his head. What a stupid decision.   
The bass thrummed, and he found himself wondering why he followed Robb to here in the first place. Jon was the only one from work, the rest were guys Robb knew from Winterfell, Karstark’s, Tallhart’s, and Manderly’s. Theon was there too, who Jon had met before, bouncing between the crowd and Robb. Theon and Jon rarely agreed on much of anything, Theon resenting Jon for taking some of Robb’s attention without trying; Jon resenting him for showboating mostly.  
“Sansa looks good tonight, right?” Theon raised his eyebrows, talking low enough that Jon realized he was trying to keep it from Robb. Jon tried to shrug noncommittally. “You’ve got to loosen up man,” and Theon clunked the bottom of his beer bottle to the mouth of Jon’s and laughed when it foamed and spilled over. Fuck, his shoes were already soggy.  
He considered just going home, but instead found himself on the back patio with the smokers, bumming a cigarette from someone who seemed mildly friendly. The door squeaked when it opened, and thudded shut. The air was damp, like it had just rained. He turned to go back inside, before it could pick up again when the creak of the door had him turning.   
Sansa was bright and breathless, smiling in that bright way she always did when she saw him. “It’s hot in there,” Jon nodded, like that was why he left too. She leaned beside him, farther than usual. Relief and distress. There was silence then, she started playing with her rings, fussing, switching them from finger to finger.   
“Is everything ok?”  
“I feel like I’ve upset you.” She said into her hands, “and I promise I didn’t mean to.” He knew there was more, and couldn’t interrupt her, she hated that, everyone interrupted her, cut her off. “I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I don’t notice, and maybe I misinterpreted this, our friendship. I’d hate to lose you in my life because I was being stupid.”  
“You aren’t stupid,” he insisted, “I’ve been keeping my distance.”  
“Perfect, even better,” She said softly.  
“It’s better this way.”  
“Why? So we’re both unhappy?”  
“Because if we were to do anything, if we were to go beyond where we are right now,” he paused, pulse matching the beat inside. “That would be it for me, you would be it for me.”  
Her breath caught, and suddenly he was kissing her. He couldn’t bring himself to regret it.


	59. kiss me

The heavy air of summer settled over the yard. Jon could hear Rickon racing across the yard with the dogs chasing at his feet; Bran and the Reed’s engrossed in a conversation about their summer reading, even with his eyes closed he could imagine Bran leaning forward with excitement.   
Sansa sighed into the crook of his neck, the hammock rocked as she shifted in her sleep. Jon opened his eyes to look at her and grinned, and not for the first time he wondered how he ended up right where he fit in.   
Across the yard Robb and Ned were talking, and most days Jon would be there too, while Sansa snuck away to clean up, to spare her mother the task, sometimes accompanied by Arya, other times Arya’s boyfriend (with whom Sansa got on with very well). Tonight was different, Sansa fisted his shirt in her sleep and the little diamond on her finger caught the light.   
Stretching his leg, he rocked the hammock again. She’d run herself ragged preparing for the party, insisting that she wanted to tell everyone at once. That was for his sake, Jon would bet almost anything. She didn’t want him to have to choose between her brother, or her sister, or her father.   
He was surprised she made it to sunset before she drew him to the trees,  
“Are you happy?” She wondered easing herself back against him.  
“The happiest,” he said, stretching his arm behind her head.  
“Me too,” she said, looking at him with large blue eyes, “almost everything I want.”  
“Almost?” He asked, “is there anything I can do?”  
“Kiss me?” and he did, softly, taking her face in his hand, “now I have everything I want.” and she promptly fell asleep, and Jon couldn’t imagine anything more perfect than this moment.


	60. trapped

The tub of flour could have been a throne for how primly she sat upon it. Eyes narrowed, though he couldn’t see the blue of them. “It’s your fault we’re in here,” she hissed. No it’s Arya’s, he wanted to retort but there was no reasoning with her when she got like this. “You get us out.”  
“She wants us to make up,” Jon explained for the thousandth time, patience waning. It wasn’t always like this, when they were dating it was easy to laugh, to tease, to fuck. Now, now all it seemed they could do was fight; if they weren’t trying to be cooly civil to one another.   
“Tough luck,” she huffed, glare fixing on him again. Where had they gone wrong? One day they were fine, then the next she started pressing his buttons, unravelling his threads with such deliberate, cool words he knew before she said the words a week later, they were over.   
“I don’t know why you’re acting like this, you’re the one who broke up with me.” He finally snapped launching himself off of the door. “If you would have just talked to me instead of turning into this ice princess maybe we could have worked it out.”  
She rose, crossing the pantry in two easy steps, leaning in close, “It’s. Not. That. Big. Of. A. Deal.”  
Fuck


	61. orchestra

Jon fiddled with the sheepskin of his drumstick, casting the occasional glance over at the harpist. She was the prettiest girl he’d ever seen in his life, and the only reason he let his father enroll him in the orchestra when he had minimal interest and even less talent.   
His father was in the audience and he often marveled at Sansa’s promise on the harp. She looked over and caught him staring, her eyes flittered down but he watched her cheeks bloom pink, then she giggled. He caught an elbow to the side, and snapped his head up, the mustachioed conductor was not pleased with him.  
After though, when everything was packed away, and nearly everyone was gone he heard a soft, “hey.” And turned to see Sansa waiting for him, “some of us are going for cocoa, do you want to come?”


	62. trick or treating

Trick-or-treat was much more active on Sam and Gilly’s street than it was in Jon’s apartment complex. Some of his students had already come by, taking their candy and petting Ghost excitedly. He was witness to more than one tantrum that was solved with sugar, and unsupervised kids screaming through spookily decorated yards, by nearly eight he was convinced he’d seen it all but then a boy shuffled his way up.  
The woman behind him had the same head of auburn hair, and she nudged him forward. “Sansa,” he groaned, “I can’t.” He tried to hide behind her pink dress, and Jon was quite convinced the boy was in kindergarten at his school. The girl, Sansa, shot him a sympathetic smile that made his heart leap, before turning back to the boy.  
“Rickon, if you can’t then we’ll go home.” She said patiently, fussing with the boys paper crown. “I know mom doesn’t do the trick or treating for you.” For the first time that night Ghost left his post beside Jon and made his way toward who Jon could only assume were the brother and sister at the end of the walk.  
The boy followed Ghost back, scuffing his shoes across the pavement. “Hi Mr. Snow.”   
“Rickon right?” the boy nodded, and the crown on his head slid forward. “Do you want to pick a piece of candy?” Jon offered the bowl to him, letting him root around, “is that your sister?”  
“Yeah, Sansa” He mumbled, “Bran’s sick so mom couldn’t bring me.”  
“Have you thanked her for that yet?” Sansa was petting Ghost excitedly, but he knew she heard, a shy blush bloomed across her cheeks. “You could probably take an extra piece of candy if you do,” he whispered conspiratorially to Rickon who perked up.  
“Thank you Sansa,” Rickon sang, snatching another piece of candy from the bowl and moving to pet Ghost too, who seemed to be in doggy heaven from the attention.   
“Are you Rickon’s teacher then?” Sansa asked, giving Jon her attention as soon as he stuffed a piece of chocolate into his mouth, giggling at the embarrassed way he hurried to eat it.  
“Third grade,” he answered quickly, and felt the telltale awkward silence sweep over them.  
“Oh cool, well I’m Sansa, maybe I’ll see you around some time.” She nudged Rickon,  
“Ghost really seems to like you, I’m taking him to the dog park tomorrow if you want to come.” He felt the words rush out of him without thinking.  
“It’s a date.” She winked, making to walk away but she hurried back, “I guess you might need my number right,” and he felt himself smile stupidly as she babbled nervously punching her number into his offered phone, before leaving with a quick smile his way. Not a bad night at all.


	63. model un

Nobody expected Sansa to excel at any of this, Jon knew she was only doing it to have for her college applications; he couldn’t really judge her for it since his father pushed him into the program. From the Ireland table Margaery Tyrell kept shooting her pitying smirks; be it for the team of unpopular kids and underclassmen, or because their country was too small to finance anything. That seemed to drive Sansa forward, she was the one who came up with their winning idea, so she was the one they nominated to speak for the group; the rest of them would be ready with answers should anyone ask questions. He wasn’t prepared for what happened when the stage lights hit her. He’s be a liar if he said Sansa wasn’t remarkably attractive, but there was something about being up at that podium, watching her captivate the entire room that made her look radiant.


	64. the winterfell pound

Sansa had been volunteering at the Winterfell pound for years, it was only fitting that after college she found herself a full-time job trying to find homes for the abandoned animals. The PR office wasn’t in the actual pound, but she still found the time every week to go and cuddle with the old cats that people overlooked for energetic kittens, and play with the older dogs who were just as excited at the sound of walks as their younger counterparts.  
“How could anyone say no to you?” She wondered scratching an excitable puppy behind his oversized ears.  
“It’s sad right?” She met Jon volunteering, his job was still pretty hands-on, but she got to reap the benefits of that. “I got Ghost when he was an adult,”  
He sat down next to her and the dog she was petting rolled onto its back to give Jon its belly. She huffed a sigh and leaned against him, “maybe we can just take all of them home.”  
“It wouldn’t be fair to the other people who come here.” Jon said evenly, they might have had this conversation once or twice a week.  
“We would love them all so much though, we do love them so much,”  
“And that’s why you’ll find them the best places to live.” Jon kissed her temple. “With people who can give them all the attention they deserve.” He sighed, “we couldn’t do that if everyone lived with us.”  
“I guess not,” she agreed sadly. “Better get to work then.”


	65. are you the reason I woke up without pants?

The morning light crept in through the plain curtains, certainly not the eyelet ones that covered her own windows. The pillow beside her was still indented where someone had slept beside her, or perhaps not slept at all.   
Her body hummed pleasantly, sated, and when she stretched languidly she realized she was bare beneath the sheet. Slowly, steadily, she wrapped the bedding around herself. She meant to investigate her surroundings. The shelves were filled with books; some were resting upright on their spines, others stacked on top of one another. Fiction, nonfiction, a couple of text books thrown in. They were well worn, bought used, or read over and over again.   
The dresser hosted a small television, and the mirror had three pictures wedged between the glass and wood. The door started to creak open, and she turned quickly, not wanting to be caught snooping.   
Sansa had watched Jon walk into hundreds of rooms, maybe even thousands, but only recently did his presence make her heart race. As soon as her interest was acknowledged it was cast aside, convinced nothing would come of it. “You’re awake,”   
“And you’re the reason I woke up without pants,” she smiled wanting to move closer, but shyness had her frozen in place. He was holding two mugs, and a paper plate balanced precariously on his arm; his shy smile mirrored her own.  
“I hope toast is ok, it’s all we have.” He lifted his arm, and she rushed to take the tipping plate, sheet drooping with only one hand gripping it. His eyes followed it, quickly jumping to meet her eyes again.  
“You made me breakfast?” She backed up until her knees hit the bed.   
“I don’t do this often, but I’m pretty sure the rule is when a girl stays over you make her breakfast.” He left enough room between them for the plate to sit and offered her the coffee.   
“Nobody’s ever made me breakfast,” Sansa took a nibble of the toast, “I mean besides my mom.” That was probably embarrassing to admit, boys never cared enough about her to do much of anything. His brow drew together and he lifted the flimsy plate, and moved closer to her. Thighs touching, a hesitant hand reached up to wrap around her shoulder.   
“You deserve more,” he said, “and I’m not just saying that.” He bit his full lip before saying, “I don’t know what last night meant for you or anything, and maybe I’m making a big deal out of this, but I would give you more if you wanted.”  
She wouldn’t have to worry with Jon. Theon always teased him about his girlfriends, but too loyal didn’t sound all that bad. Save for her brothers Jon was the best guy she knew, only she was the last to figure it out. She leaned against him, solid, and unmoving. Sturdy. Safe. Yes, she wanted that very much.


	66. haunted on camera

“Jon,” Sansa whispered, “did you feel that?”  
“Yeah,” she could hear him rubbing his arms with his hands. “I thought Arya said this was all fake.”  
“We have to go before one possesses you, or me.” Sansa was inching toward the door, Jon just a breath behind her. “I don’t know how you talked me into this,” she hissed, hand flat against the wall.  
“You said you wanted to do something scary this Halloween,” Jon defended himself.   
“Like go to a haunted house, or watch a scary movie. But ghost hunting Jon?”   
“I wanted to give you a first date that nobody’d ever taken you on.” He said sheepishly, “but noted, ghost hunting is a terrible idea.”   
“It absolutely is,” Sansa chided, sighing with relief as she took hold of the doorknob. “You’ll have to make it up to me.”  
“What?” Jon sputtered, wondering if he heard her wrong.  
“Hey!” Thoros called, “leaving already?”  
“Yeah I um-”  
“We think we left the headlights on in the car,” Sansa finished smoothly, if her palms hadn’t been so sweaty, something Jon knew would mortify her later, he might have believed her. They rushed out, and it wasn’t until they were standing outside, crisp autumn air cooling the sweat on their skin, that their breathing slowed.  
“I’ll take you home if you want.” He mumbled unlocking the car.  
“Are you kidding? After that you owe me a drink.” He hadn’t realized she’d give him a second chance so soon. “And maybe dinner.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm always around on [tumblr](http://www.sansa-potter.tumblr.com)


End file.
